


Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie Tozier: NOT Recommended For The Adult Film Industry

by Millennialpink22



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bev lives on Eddie's floor, But they aren't friends yet, Co-ed dorms, College, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Dorms, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, F/M, Frat Parties, Fraternities & Sororities, Gift Fic, Heavy Petting, Hook-Up, I personally would not define it as such but some might, Idk it's a weird term to define, If it's considered a hook-up?, Insecure Eddie Kaspbrak, Insecure Richie Tozier, Insecurities get in the way of them getting together, Just imagine young Bill Hader and James Ransone, Lack of Communication, Love Bites, M/M, Making Out, Marijuana, No Sex, No Smut, Pre-Relationship, Rebellious Eddie Kaspbrak, Shotgunning, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, THAT is a trope, They're 18/19, Underage Drinking, You left your shirt at my place and I have to give it back to you, eddie and mike are roommates, or at least it should be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28033458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Millennialpink22/pseuds/Millennialpink22
Summary: Eddie may be doing everything in his power to defy his mother since entering college, but engaging in any sexual behavior beyond making out with some nameless frat guy in a humid basement is definitely not something he feels comfortable doing. However that might very well change upon meeting Richie Tozier... even if most of what he does with Richie is probably not considered even remotely sexy to anyone except his inexperienced self.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 12
Kudos: 43





	Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie Tozier: NOT Recommended For The Adult Film Industry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pink_mistakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pink_mistakes/gifts).



> Happy LATE birthday to my most favorite Swede! I was supposed to get this up on the 10th, but you know my horrendous sleep schedule. I fell asleep whilst editing on the 10th and then I got distracted from posting and didn't get it up when I intended! But alas, here she is in her lengthy glory! 
> 
> Thank you for honestly being such a highlight in my life and always listening to me babble on about the most ridiculous things. You've been there for me in more ways than you even realize and I just genuinely appreciate all that you've done for me and I am so utterly grateful to have met you as af friend. You mean the entire galaxy to me. I hope you enjoy this and it makes you laugh a lot. It is based on the stories I've told you because we both agreed that they were incredibly ~reddie~ and I just altered them ever so slightly to fit their narrative. I hope you like this and it doesn't displease you! If not, I do apologize.
> 
> the rest of you bastards: I hope this ends up being fun to read! It's almost entirely based on personal experience with a particular ~someone~ I was seeing when I was 18. Idk. I tried to make this funny and decently executed but my brain do not be a thing rn! I apologize in advance if the pacing and tensing is weird. I struggle most with that. Also I don't write ~romance~ or anything so get off my dick if that's the content you're longing for. not my area of expertise as a mostly closeted idiot that pines after their best friend. <3
> 
> hope ya like it or not idk
> 
> a 1000 times by hamilton leithauser + rostam and gold rush by taylor swift really fits a lot of the vibe of this one tbh
> 
> TW TW TW TW: Some sex talk, marijuana usage, underage drinking (and a lot of it because college), insecurities getting in the way of sexy times, hooking up (if you consider this hooking up idk if it is) whilst under the influence but NO dub-con at all, some overstepping of boundaries, and of course mommy issues!!!!

**December (Year I; Semester I)**

People change in college. That was a fact. Anyone who graduated from their university with their surplus amounts of crippling debt, a plethora of new experiences (some of which certainly were _not_ legal), and of course a mind expanded with knowledge and a degree to show for it, was not going to be the same person that they were on the very first day that they’d stepped foot onto their college campus. Those who did somehow maintain their pre-college persona were people that Eddie Kaspbrak had no desire to associate with. 

Such people definitely peaked in high school and would probably rave on about some dull party they attended in a senior girl’s basement where they were overcharged for water downed vodka or the time they scored a winning touchdown decades down the line when they find themselves in some menial five to nine job that really didn’t require the overpriced degree from the university they only probably got into because their father had connections or whatever. Change was essential for college students— or at least it was to Eddie. Eddie had not even finished an entire semester and he was not even remotely close to being like the timid, goody-two-shoes hypochondriac he’d been the day his overbearing mother had tearfully bid him farewell outside the co-ed dorms he would be inhabiting for the next nine months. 

Sonia had, of course, planted a seed of anxiety within Eddie’s already overwhelmed mind by implying that there was just _so_ much to worry about in college and she’d told him that it wasn’t too late for him to back down. She’d told him that he _didn’t_ have to go to college. He could just stay home and be with her where _nothing_ could hurt him. Admittedly, Eddie had actually considered this preposition for the fear he’d already been feeling at entering this new chapter of his life had progressively gotten worse as the move-in process dragged on because that just made the prospect of becoming a legitimate, self-sufficient adult so much more real. He realized he was losing the safety net of being considered a “kid” and maybe staying home with _mommy_ would be easier than facing that. 

Luckily, however, he did not take her bait and he remained at school. She had been right: There was a _lot_ to worry about in college. But Eddie, much to his own surprise, was more than capable of handling it and besides, the tribulations he’d faced thus far and the ones still in store for him paled in comparison to the sheer amount of fun Eddie had been having since the start of term. 

He had initially been a bit apprehensive about engaging in anything that most college students would deem as “fun” but college was designed to facilitate growth and something about meeting all these new and exciting people and not having the onerous weight of his mother’s irrationality sitting upon his shoulders each and every day, encouraged him to do a complete 180 with his life. Gone was the nervous, moderately uptight (okay severely uptight) boy he’d been just four months prior. 

He was still riddled with an insubordinate amount of insecurities and anxiety— Eddie did not think those things would ever go away— but he felt so much more competent and like he was excited for each day that passed him by. He was making strives to become more independent and was no longer calling or texting his mom for (toxic) reassurance on every single thing he did— which he actually had done for the first two weeks of college and only stopped after one of these phone calls left him sobbing hysterically and his roommate, Mike Hanlon, had walked in on this rather intense episode. 

Mike reassured him that he was allowed to become his own person and that there really wasn’t anything he needed to be afraid of and he should try to loosen up and have some fun once in a while rather than spending his nights cooped up in his room studying as much as a senior STEM student when Eddie was just an undecided freshman taking a ton of GenEds. Eddie had needed to hear those words. It sparked something in him. College was the perfect period for change and yes his focus was academics but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have fun. So, the weekend following his discussing with Mike, Eddie asked if he could join Mike and Stanley Uris (a guy that lived two doors down from him and Mike) on a night out on Frat Row accompanied by some of the girls on their floor as they had to have a “good ratio” or whatever in order to get into the houses. 

And that night had been his 180 moment. It hadn’t taken much to get Eddie Kaspbrak absolutely obliterated for he was quite small in stature and he had never touched a drop of alcohol in his life. He had never had more fun in his life than he had on the first night he had gotten drunk. He’d been a little antsy at first, nervously sipping at the mixed drink he’d been served in a classic red solo cup but once Mike and Stan dragged his stiff body onto the dance floor, he allowed himself to relax. He had started to move with the blaring music and felt the buzz evolve into drunkenness whilst screaming the lyrics to Mr. Brightside. He had felt so alive in that moment. He’d been totally wasted and he had definitely damaged his hearing that night as his ears had a buzzing ring to them for hours afterward but he had so much fucking fun. That night was a big middle finger to his patronizing mother and it felt fucking great. 

And maybe, just maybe, Eddie went off the rails a little bit—but that was just an expectation for college freshmen that had been heavily sheltered their whole life as Eddie had been. He’d definitely blacked out a few times and had nearly been cited by campus police for underage drinking on multiple occasions but that was simply because Eddie _really_ did not know his limits. It was hard to gauge how much alcohol it took to get to that pleasant place right between tipsy and black out drunk when you hadn’t experimented with partying in high school like a lot of other people had. 

He had smoked weed a few times and had even tried edibles from a stoner on his floor and not knowing jack shit about potency and shit, he’d thought it was okay to eat an entire pot brownie on his own. He had found himself too stoned to leave his bedroom floor for a whole night and was stuck staring at the ceiling wishing everything would be over as the whites of his eyes burned an impressive red color and his head filled itself with cotton. It was not the best experience per se but it was a _learning_ experience and so as long as such exposure to new substances didn’t exceed hard liquor or the devil’s lettuce nor did it impact his ability to do well in his classes, he wasn’t overly miffed about it. He was having fun. More fun than he’d ever had.

However, what Eddie believed to be the most vital change from his pre-college self was not his newfound usage of alcohol and the good ol’ Mary Jane, but the fact that he was finally becoming more in touch with his sexuality and was developing an ability to be somewhat physically intimate. Eddie had always known he was gay ever since he discovered such a label existed in his very early adolescence but he had never really made the title an official thing that he wore as a badge of honor or incorporated into his identity. That had been out of the question whilst living under Sonia’s roof. She was always one to rant on about how anyone within the LGBTQ+ community was essentially destined to die of AIDS and to subsequently burn in hell. 

But now, he was completely out and it didn’t feel like some gruesome secret he held, that proved him to be defective but it was merely a part of who he was and he felt no shame in it and no one around him made him feel even remotely different whenever they discovered that he was gay. It was also helpful that his university was definitely more liberal leaning so the types of students attending were bound to not be overtly homophobic; of course some still made tasteless and lobrow comments but that, Eddie could live with. 

Prior to breaking out of his shell, Eddie was confident that he would have to bury his sexuality and maintain a facade of heterosexuality by marrying a _woman_ simply to appease his mother. Eddie did not think he would have to do that anymore. It would be a shock for his mother but Eddie was steadily realizing that he did not have to exist for _her_ but instead for himself and if that meant defying everything _she_ wanted of him— then so be it. 

Eddie would identify as he pleased and he would marry a man if he so desired. Although, that seemed a bit of a rush for Eddie as he was hilariously inexperienced in the field of romance. Before coming to school, Eddie had not even kissed anyone. That had since changed as Eddie had had his first kiss whilst intoxicated at a frat party with some guy whose name he never caught on top of an elevated surface while the DJ blasted “Closer” by The Chainsmokers on a shoddy set of speakers. It had been sloppy, awkward, and contained _way_ too much tongue and bruising gropes around his ass from the other male. 

Definitely not the _best_ experience and obviously not the memorable, _romantic_ first kiss Eddie had always envisioned for himself in his youth. But maybe first kisses were supposed to be cringy and not something that warmed one’s heart. Maybe they were supposed to simply serve as a foundation for what _not_ to do when playing tonsil hockey with someone and to help one figure precisely what they enjoy whilst sucking another person’s face— to determine their “type.”

He’s definitely had some time to figure out what he likes given that Eddie, especially when warmed by the intoxicating buzz of jungle juice or whatever was being served at the party he, Stan, and Mike found themselves at, has made it a point to always find some guy willing to make out with him at parties. He is not completely certain what he is looking for in a guy but he does know that he definitely enjoys taller guys with legs and arms longer than a dull lecture, and that he feels heat rush to his stomach anytime a guy begins sucking on his neck. 

Some are deterred by such actions for it is likely to leave an abundance of bruises in the wake of aggressive lips. However, to Eddie, hickeys are not something to hide with concealer and color corrector from one of the girls on his floor. Hickeys have become something that when Eddie is lucky enough to get them, he genuinely enjoys showing off because it just feels like a piece of evidence that someone found him desirable enough to mark. Perhaps it’s a bit barbaric and animalistic to think such things but Eddie just thinks necks bruised by the lips of another are _wildly_ sexy.

But even the guys that do manage to bruise Eddie’s neck are not really his type. Sure, they might be good looking and are fun when Eddie is in the midst of a party-induced adrenaline rush but the idea of actually pursuing those guys feels wrong— like forcing two puzzle pieces together that obviously are supposed to be on opposite ends of the final picture. Of course some of them don’t really take well to Eddie not wanting to go beyond some rough kissing and playful biting and are entirely too forceful about trying to get him to follow them home or upstairs to a private room but Eddie, simply speaking, is _not_ ready for sex in the slightest— especially not with someone he’s not particularly interested in. He doesn’t know when he will be ready to do the nasty. He just knows he wants to trust the person that he does _that_ with and that is not something he is willing to compromise on. 

A one night stand would perhaps be the final nail in the coffin of Eddie’s ‘ _Fuck You Mom, I’m Gonna Do What I Want’_ streak that’s he got going on, but Eddie is not prepared to hammer it in nor does he thinks he wants to. He just doesn’t want to do an act that requires, in Eddie’s opinion, an extreme level of physical vulnerability with a nameless frat guy he doesn’t give two fucks about. Sure, he once believed a first kiss had to be romantic but that quickly changed once alcohol numbed his senses but he was not willing to alter his current mindset that his “first time” should be with someone he _knew_ and actually cared about. 

And maybe, Eddie believes, that person could one day be Richie Tozier.

Eddie meets Richie just before he’s about to head out to a Christmas party at one of the off campus fraternities. Eddie is wearing an ugly Christmas sweater that is still vaguely fashionable and a pair of dark wash skinny jeans that hug his runner-toned legs in a way that he knows will easily entice any guy that happens to give him the good ol’ up and down with their wandering eyes. Upon his head sits a reindeer antler headband that is adorned with multicolored bells that ring a cheap sounding jingle anytime he moves his head in the slightest nanometer. 

It could be quite annoying but Eddie doesn’t think he’ll care too much once he gets his buzz started with whatever toxic mixture Bill Denbrough had conjured up for the two of them in a partially drained gatorade bottle. Bill is a freshman English major that lives on the east side of campus and has become one of Eddie’s close friends this past semester as the two of them have been suffering quite severely in their first year seminar together. Suffering, as many college students come to learn, is a fantastic way to formulate lifelong bonds. 

Normally, Eddie would go out with Stan and Mike but Stan had been claimed by the campus plague spreading like wildfire among students (which Eddie had been trying to work himself in thinking it didn’t terrify him as much as it actually did with his mother’s voice niggling in the back of his mind) and Mike had to wake up before noon tomorrow to get with his group for some humanities class in the library to finish off a group project all of them had been putting off. 

Eddie was fine going out with Bill, though. He’d been out with him on a few other occasions and he, Bill, Mike, and Stan always had a blast together so Eddie was pretty confident that he and Bill could have fun at this party even without the rest of their little cluster. 

“The h-headband looks f-fine, Eddie.” Bill snorts in the men’s bathroom while Eddie tries to tuck his hair properly underneath the band without making it look like he has a receding hairline or he lacks his normal luscious hair volume. Bill had a bit of a stutter and Eddie already knows it’s going to become increasingly more pronounced the drunker the two of them decide to get.

Eddie was notorious for always being late anytime they went out so Bill had decided to meet him at Eddie’s dorm rather than deciding to meet up at the frat house since he would probably be stuck waiting outside in the December chill for longer than was worth it for going into an asbestos ridden house to chug jungle juice from a Tupperware tub. 

“Are you sure?” Eddie asks, twirling a bit of his overgrown bangs out to sit across his brow bone. 

“Yes. You look _v-very_ festive.” Bill chuckles, uncapping the bottle and taking a sip of the liquid that is mostly composed of vodka and only tinged blue with the small amount of Gatorade that Bill had left in there prior to mixing. He chokes a bit on the liquid, pursing his lips and shaking his head. It’s strong. Eddie holds his hand out, wanting to get his buzz started before they leave. 

He _hates_ going into frat houses sober. His lifelong anxieties kick in and make him painfully aware of how bacteria-ridden and dangerous those places are and make him want to run back into his dorm and curl up under the covers and _never_ step foot near another college party again. Is it the best coping mechanism? Not at all. Will he do anything to remedy? Nope. 

“And you look rather dull.” Eddie observes. Bill is wearing a plain green crewneck with a pair of light wash jeans and converse that look as if they’d been white at point but are now permanently stained with what looks to be mud and the peculiar Frat Juice™ that is always layered upon most house floors and is primarily composed of what Eddie believes to be: copious amounts of spilled booze, sweat, spit, and perhaps something more vile like piss, vomit, and maybe, just maybe, what would have been the class of 2040. 

“I couldn’t f-find a Christmas s-sweater I liked enough to wear, okay?” Bill attempts to defend himself. 

“Alright, Grinch.” Eddie teases.

Bill rolls his eyes and takes another pull and then hands the bottle over to Eddie. Eddie feels himself bristle a bit as the smell of cheap vodka assaults his nostrils. He lets out a breath, almost wishing he had a chaser right now. But he’s not a pussy so he takes a hearty set of gulps that have Bill blanching as Eddie drains the bottle to the halfway point. Eddie coughs a bit, blinking away the tears pooling in his eyes as it burns down his throat. It’s absolutely vile— Crowne Russe, maybe? It’ll get the job done but boy does it taste like fucking hand sanitizer with a hint of citrus from the energy drink that once occupied the bottle.

“Jesus Christ.” Bill snorts, brows raised; slightly impressed with his friend. “You’re a m-monster.”

“Oh I am not.” Eddie snorts. “I’m a one shot wonder.”

“Don’t you dare die on m-me tonight.” Bill advises, allowing Eddie to walk them out. 

“I won’t.” And he won’t. Eddie has started to figure out his limits a bit better (albeit not perfectly) and sure he’ll be hammered tonight but he doesn't think he will be at risk for death or end up in the hospital like some individuals on his floor had.

Eddie does a quick pat down against the pocket of his jeans to ensure that he has his roomkey if for some bizarre reason Mike decides to lock their door for once— a rare feat for them as roommates but a risk Eddie doesn’t want to take. He also knows they _should_ lock their doors but it’s just something neither of them have been very diligent about and is not a habit they’re too concerned with, especially given that finals are just around the corner. Truthfully, with the horror stories Eddie has heard about just how hellish finals week can be, he might actually _welcome_ sombebody to break into their unlocked dorm just to murder him in order to avoid that type of suffering. 

Eddie leads the way out of the bathroom and hits the elevator button, bouncing on his heels while he waits for the definitely-not-to-code metal encasement to get to their floor and squeakily deliver them to the lobby of their building. Whilst waiting for the elevator, a heavier set guy that Eddie knows is not a resident from his floor and who has perhaps the softest eyes he’s ever seen and the same reindeer headband approaches and points to Eddie’s head with a sloppy grin that can only come from the tipsiness of a technically illegal dorm room pregame. 

“Nice antlers, man!” He chirps, words mushing together from a rising BAC level.

Eddie snorts, his cheeks starting to warm a bit as the cheap vodka streams through his body. He definitely won’t be an anxious mess by the time they get to Frat Row. “You too!” He shoots a thumbs up.

“Oh my God, we _need_ a picture.” The guy insists. “Bev!!!!!” He yells out and Eddie hears the faint click of someone locking a door (obviously smarter than him) from the girls’ side.

This guy must be friends with Beverly Marsh— a redhead that does live on this floor with Eddie but is just someone he never interacted with. She did seem nice enough in Eddie’s opinion but was also somewhat intimidating what with her seemingly permanent smirk and incredible fashion sense. 

“I’m coming, Ben!” She insists, the sound of heeled booties clicking on the cheap tile floor. “Oh hi, Eddie.” She says with a small quirk of her ruby-colored lips. Behind her, fiddling with his faux leather belt as he missed a loop when weaving it around his jeans, is perhaps the most attractive person Eddie has been graced with ever seeing what with his incredibly noodly musculature, floppy brown hair, and blue eyes magnified behind a pair of glasses perched low upon his ski slope nose. 

He swallows quickly. “Hey Bev.”

“Are you gonna take our picture?” Ben asks again and Bev snorts, reaching for Ben’s cellphone.

“Richie?” Bill suddenly interrupts once the gangly one has his belt straightened out. Eddie nearly whips around in shock as to interrogate Bill why he never informed him of this attractive man’s existence and to determine how Bill knows this...this Richie fella. 

“Big Bill!” Richie chuckles, slurring ever so slightly. His voice is a bit too deep for what Eddie would have expected based upon his face and a bit nasally but not from a cold. Eddie can tell that that’s probably what his voice sounds like. “Did you take the econ quiz yet?”

“Yeah. You?” Bill takes a large gulp from the gatorade bottle. 

“Nah. It’s due Sunday. I like to live on the edge.” Richie jeers, a crooked grin cast upon his features. 

Bill chuckles at that.

“And who's this friend, Bevy?” Richie suddenly asks, his blue eyes meeting Eddie’s brown ones. Eddie feels his heart skip a beat. Eddie might be dreaming but he swears Richie is looking him up and down. 

Bev purses her lips a bit. She and Eddie are not friends. There’s no animosity between them but Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever held a conversation with her beyond asking her if she knew where the gym was located in relation to their building. “This is Eddie. He lives on the other side of the floor so don’t be flirting with him.” Her command is light and without heat so maybe she doesn’t mean it but all Eddie gathers from that is the fact that Richie isn’t straight. _Score._

Eddie waves sheepishly and immediately feels like an idiot. Why the hell would he wave when he’s standing right in front of Richie? God. 

“And he’s taking a picture with me!” Ben insists just as the elevator doors screech open. 

“We can take it outside.” Eddie tells him. “The lighting is better out there anyway.”

“I wanna be in it too!” Richie announces. “I look quite festive.” And he does, Eddie notices. His Christmas sweater is actually the gaudiest thing Eddie has ever laid eyes on with the sparkly three dimensional pom poms designed to look like ornaments on the shoddily embroidered tree. 

“You too Bill?” Eddie asks, feeling a bit awkward in front of Bev. Bill nods but then he feels even worse. “We can find someone outside to take all of our pictures so you can be in it too, Bev.”

She shakes her head, chuckling. “Nah. This should be a guy's picture.” She adds, “And plus, Richie took some really cool pictures of me in my dorm.”

“I’m an art major.” He says to Eddie with a small smile.

“Oh wow that’s actually super cool.” 

“Thanks. What about you?” Richie says as the door opens to the lobby and they head outside into what would have been painfully cold air if it weren’t for the alcohol in their systems. He guides them to the brick wall that will serve as a decent background for Ben’s picture. 

“Undecided still.” Eddie admits feebly. He always feels stupid for saying that.

“That’s alright.” Richie shrugs and for some reason it does feel alright when Richie says it. “You’ll figure it out.”

“Alright, Eddie and Ben in the middle since they’re twinning.” Bev instructs. 

Richie immediately goes to Eddie’s other side and throws an arm around him. Heat rushes to Eddie’s face and he hopes that if he turns as red as he thinks he is, they will assume it’s because of the cold. 

Bev then begins snapping a ton of pictures, making sure to get all of the desirable angles before handing Ben his phone back.

“Send those to me.” Richie insists.

“Uh can I have ‘em too?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah! When Ben sends them to me I can text you them!” Richie says. “Just lemme put my number in your phone.”

Eddie wants to say that it would be easier for Ben to just text them to him right now but who is Eddie to pass up the chance to have his guy’s number? 

“That’s perfect.” Eddie says, handing Richie his phone. 

Richie starts tapping away. “So Eds and Billiam, where are you two headed?”

“Uh, P-Pi Lambda. Eddie knows one of the br-brothers and they’re having a shots-around-the-world p-party.”

Richie winces at that and Bev groans loudly. 

“What?” Eddie asks. 

“I got drugged there on Halloween.” Bev admits. “Richie got me out before anyone could do anything but I just don’t trust them that much but if you know someone you should be ok—”

“Why don’t you come to Skulls with us?” Richie interjects. Bev whips her head to him, eyebrows furrowing. “They’re just having a regular Christmas themed party but it should still be a blast.”

“Uh…” Eddie feels awkward especially given Bev’s reaction. “I don’t want to impose.”

“Bev knows a guy there!” Richie tells them.

“Yeah, _one_.” Bev says. “I don’t want him to think I’m taking advantage of him.”

“Oh cause frat boys _never_ take advantage of _anyone_.” Richie scoffs. He looks at Bev silently and Eddie can tell they’re having some sort of telepathic conversation. Her smile returns in a shiteating form and she nods quickly. 

“We should be okay.” Bev decides. “If you guys _do_ want to come.”

Eddie looks at Bill. They don’t have the same type of telepathic connection like Richie and Bev seem to have, but their raised brows and half nods are enough to determine their agreement.

“Yeah, we’d be d-down to go there i-instead. S-Skulls is a lot cl-closer anyway.” Bill says, handing Eddie the Gatorade bottle to finish before they get any further from the building where a cop could corner them for underage possession of alcohol. 

Eddie is quick to down it, eliciting a whistle from Richie. Eddie’s stomach leaps a bit and it’s definitely _not_ from the drunken haze starting to set in.

“That was iconic.” Richie snorts as Eddie tosses the bottle in a trashcan.

“I try.” Eddie shrugs, walking close to Richie as they make the journey toward Frat Row. Snow is starting to sprinkle down—none of it sticking to the road around them but setting in their hair like chilled dandruff. Eddie is thankful that he elected to get a bit toasted before leaving because had he been sober he would not only be tempted to pay for an Uber as opposed to walking in the cold but he would definitely be way too nervous to socialize with Richie as comfortably as he is currently able to.

Eddie thinks the way they are teasing each other and shoving each other around could be classified as flirting and it actually feels totally natural to him—even if his confidence to actually interact with Richie so personally stems from Bill’s cheap vodka-gatorade mix. 

“That’s where I had my first kiss.” Eddie announces as they walk past Kappa Sig—one of the grand looking homes plastered with greek letters.

Frat houses are quite deceptive. They have such stunning exteriors with stone pathways and two story high pillars but the inside has been absolutely demolished by the frat bros that inhabit them. The wood floors that were definitely a stunning finish in their hayday are now scratched up and are always in desperate need of refinishing but such an act will never happen since there is no point given that every single weekend of the school year they end up coated with the infamous Frat Juice™. The walls are marred with stains that cannot be traced to anything distinguishable and are often cracked in areas where people have bumped into them or angry drunk guys have attempted to throw their fist through them. Each of the rooms, perhaps beautifully decorated decades ago, are now plastered with crooked posters of half naked girls or “ _Saturdays Are For The Boys”_ flags—nothing an interior designer would approve of in the slightest. Frat houses, in Eddie’s opinion, are literally the epitome of pretty on the outside, ugly on the inside. 

“I don’t believe you.” Richie snorts. “There’s no way someone as cool as you waited until _college_ to kiss someone.”

Eddie _preens_ at this comment.

“Oh it’s t-true.” Bill chimes in, having been engaged in a conversation about DND with Ben and Bev. 

“Really?” Bev raises a brow at Eddie, taken aback. “I mean I’ve seen you at some parties parties Eddie. You are not… you’re not one to hold back.”

“That’s definitely a more recent development.” He admits with a chuckle. 

“College can change a guy.” Ben declares loudly as they approach the steps of Skulls and ascend upward where they see a few pledges interrogating a lone boy trying to get in.

“No wristband, no entry.” The taller of the two, a total Chad looking type, sneers.

“My friends are in there though.” The guy whines. 

“He’s with us.” Bev interrupts, stepping behind the other guy, crossing her arms under her chest to draw emphasis to her well endowed chest. Objectification is wrong but Bev sure knows how to use it to her advantage. 

“Oh really?” The shorter one scoffs. He scans them— taking note of the fact that there’s only one girl and four guys in addition to the one begging to be let in.

Eddie know frat guys hate letting in too much guys in at once as they see it as a risk for a “sausage party” but Eddie never has to deal with that too much since he just informs the guys at the doors that he’s gay and they have nothing to worry about with him coming in there to “take away the girls” they somehow all feel entiteld to. Of course some of them have taken that the wrong way and assumed Eddie would flirt with _them_ but usually it poses minimal issues since a majority of their university is _relatively_ open minded. 

Bev clicks her tongue. “Yeah. I know Eddie Corcoran. He’s social chair, he rushed in 2014, and he told me I could come and that I could bring friends.” She tells them, not even stumbling over her words the way Eddie _always_ does when he explains why he should be allowed entrance to an overcrowded house party. 

The two pledges look at each other and shrug their shoulders. 

“Alright, I guess you guys can all go in.” The shorter one decides, his breath creating a cloud in the cold air. He opens the door and immediately exposes them all to deafening music from the DJ’s table and the hair raising stench of alcohol, weed, and sweat. Eddie grins. It’s time to party.

They step inside and the guy Bev helped to get in profusely thanks her before running off to find the friends he’d told the douche bag pledges about. After saying goodbye to that dude, their little group heads over to the bar being run by some other pledges, all of which looking like they have definitely been indulging in their own stuff for most of the night. Eddie always prefers parties that actually have a bar as opposed to the ones that just leave a tub of jungle juice out for everyone to grab at. It feels cleaner and safer to the paranoid bit of him that will probably always exist. 

Eddie asks for a vodka-cran and feels a surge of pleasure to see that they’re giving him a solo cup that is almost all vodka with the most miniscule splash of Ocean Breeze. He also notices that they’re not using something as vile as the bottom shelf shit that Bill usually gets for the two of them. 

Bev gets her drink just after him. “Wanna go to the dance floor?” She asks, her voice just on the verge of shouting so that Eddie is capable of hearing it over the sound of Kanye West. 

“Yeah!” He beams at her. The rest of their group is still waiting to get their own drinks but Eddie feels content in being alone with Bev at this party for a bit, rather than just gluing himself to Bill’s side until he inevitably starts sucking face with a random guy. Eddie is beginning to realize that Bev is definitely a fun and approachable person. He hopes that after tonight they can become closer floormates. The two of them climb upon one of the elevated surfaces shoved against a wall so they’ll be more visible to their friends once they get their asses over to them. 

Eddie begins gulping down his drink whilst moving his body to the beat of the music as he and Bev belt out the lyrics to some Beyonce song. The two of them are cracking up, getting steadily more inebriated, and dropping their asses impressively low once the others finally make it back to them with their own alcoholic concoctions. 

“They had to get c-coke from the kit-kitchen.” Bill explains.

“You’re doing coke?!” Eddie blanches. That’s a bridge Eddie has yet to cross and he’s not entirely too sure he’s interested in it yet. You never know. 

“Coca-cola, y-you idiot.” Bill cackles and points a finger in his face. “You r-r-really didn’t need this one,” he points to the half drained cup in Eddie’s hand, “after t-the way you ch-chugged more than half of the drink I-I made you.”

Eddie merely sticks his tongue out and realizes he doesn’t really feel the wet sensation of it against his lips. Oh yeah. He’s definitely entering the roaring drunk territory. 

“Ah, let ‘em live!” Richie slurs, slinging an arm around Eddie. His heart stutters a bit and he desperately wants to slide his fingers through his mop of hair and stick his tongue past Richie’s chapped lips. But he actually feels _nervous_ at the thought of kissing Richie even though he is drunk. That is something that never happens. How curious. 

Rather than kissing Richie, he spins to face him and begins singing Sweet Caroline entirely off key with him; bouncing up and down and shaking the surface they stand upon. 

The song comes to an end and suddenly the familiar tune of Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas Is You” begins to play. 

“OH MY GOD!” Richie screeches, sloshing his drink onto his battered converse. “I FUCKING LOVE CHRISTMAS!” 

Eddie and Richie face each other, bellowing the lyrics together and Eddie cannot pretend that his heart does not absolutely soar when Richie points to him when he says the words “All I want for Christmas is _you._ ” The night continues with the five of them dancing sloppily, getting way too many refills of their drinks, and laughing maniacally as they stumble over their own two feet. 

“Eddie texted me.” Bev tells their group, raising her voice and leaning heavily against Ben who appears a bit flustered at their position. 

“Did not.” Eddie slurs, wanting to lean on Richie but instead electing to sway in place as the DJ begins playing some throwback Taylor Swift music. 

“I think s-she means C-Corcoran.” Bill hiccups. 

“ _Oh_ _fuck yes_.” Richie basically moans and _that_ sound awakens something almost feral in Eddie. 

“Yeah. He said we can go to his room if we want.” Bev tells them and Eddie is confused and he believes the confusion is completely reasonable and not solely related to the booze clouding his system. 

“Wait for what?” Eddie asks, sobering up some as anxiety surges through his veins. Why would they be going to some guy’s room? Were they about to partake in some weird Christmas-themed orgy? Eddie wasn’t even ready to have sex with _one_ person, let alone multiple people. He was not about to become some Mistlehoe.

“Oh, Corcoran has weed in his room.” Bev clarifies and Eddie immediately feels relief. “He’s trying to get rid of the rest of this stash and said we could have it.” And isn’t _that_ a golden ticket. It’s a rare thing to find someone that is willing to just offer up the rest of their weed without charging an obscene amount. 

“If you _don’t_ want to come up, I can stay down here with you.” Ben tells Eddie. “I don’t smoke. I just like watching those two get floppy.”

“No, no. I’m cool with it.” Eddie reassures. He’s grown more accustomed to marijuana this past year. However, he won’t pretend that the smoke does not still burn his lungs something fierce. 

“Onward then!” Richie bellows in a shoddy-at-best British accent. 

Bev leads the way, weaving them around the cluster of sweaty, intoxicated college students that are, like them, all below the legal drinking limit. They are led down a hallway that absolutely reeks of pot. Eddie thinks that it might be kind of funny for a candle company to release a candle that withheld the unique stench of a frat house. It would probably be a blend of cheap cologne, booze, and weed with notes of B.O. and vomit. 

Corcoran’s room is at the very end of the hallway, which to Eddie, in his drunken state, was far too much of a walk and has his head spinning. He’s starting to think that perhaps getting cross faded by blending marijuana and alcohol is not the brightest idea. He’s definitely more drunk than he’d anticipated on getting. It was hard not to constantly go and refill his drink anytime Richie had left to do his own but it must have slipped his mind that Richie had a good half foot and probably thirty extra pounds on him so Richie going for so many refills was hardly anything to bat an eye at. 

Bev swings open the door to reveal the source of the strong weed spell and a messy room with obnoxiously flashing, tacky LED lights, a table piled high with drug paraphernalia and some other college kids seated in a circle all of whom look about as sauced as Eddie feels. 

“Hey Bev.” A dark haired boy,who Eddie assumes is Eddie Corcoran, says softly. His eyes are flaming red and his mouth is twisted in a semi-permanent half smile that only comes from a quality high. 

“Hey Eddie.” She greets back, slumping down next to her friend. “You already know Richie and Ben.” Eddie nods slowly. “These two are Eddie and Bill.”

“Nice name.” Eddie finds himself saying dumbly before he can stop himself. His head to mouth filter is gone for the night. 

Corcoran snorts loudly and Eddie feels better about his lame joke. “Nice to meet you guys. These guys,” he gestured to the others around him who take turns waving at all of them and shaking each of their hands in what can only be described as dead fish handshakes. “Are some of my brothers and shit.” He snorts. “We’re gonna go down to Are U Hungry,” a local fast food joint that was truly ingenious with its peculiar sandwiches that combined all the best drunk foods into one and other creative concoctions obviously designed with stoned and drunk college kids in mind, “and get some take-out. Honestly, just finish my stash. I’m getting more shit from Hocksetter later this week and I could give two fucks.” Eddie can’t blame him for wanting to hightail it out of there and get some greasy food. Munchies can be an absolute bitch if not quickly addressed.

And with that the other Eddie rallies up his friends and leaves the five of them to finish off his stash. 

“Thanks Eddie!” Bev cheers as he steps outside. 

Richie rubs his palms together eagerly, dropping to his knees in front of the table.

“Let _me_ pack it, dumbass. You can’t do this sober let alone with the amount of alcohol you’ve put away.” The redhead insists, poking a finger into Richie’s stomach, eliciting a snorting goose-honk laugh from him. She takes the pipe, which has a intricate design of colorful swirls, and begins to steadily pack the freshly ground weed into the bowl. She eyeballs it and wiggles it a bit to ensure that none of it is about to slip over the edge and then grabs a fluorescent orange lighter and flicks it once... twice, before getting a flame out of it and places the end of the pipe in her mouth and slowly inhales. Eddie, even with his ears ringing, can hear the sound of the substance crackling as it burns. 

She slides her mouth off slowly, leaving a rim of lipstick on the device. Her mouth is just slightly ajar as she prevents herself from breathing out, allowing the smoke to sit in her lungs for a moment before exhaling slowly. She nods. “That’s good shit.” She says just over a whisper. She repeats herself one more time, letting out a contented hum.

“My turn.” Richie grins, taking it from her and repeating the same process she did although he lacks the ability to make it look as seductive and graceful as Bev had for some reason. 

He lets out a few small coughs, fanning the smoke away from his face. “Damn. Hocksetter might be a fucking creep but he sells good fucking shit.” He takes one more hit and follows that with a third. 

“Ain’t that the truth.” Bev says, leaning up against Ben who seemingly, on instinct, begins weaving his thick fingers through her hair. 

Bill takes the pipe next, sucking down the smoke a bit too fast and falling into an embarrassing coughing fit before handing it to Eddie who only takes it so Bill’s shaking hands don’t spill the contents everywhere. 

“Uh, I think I’m too drunk for this right now.” Eddie admits sheepishly. 

“You don’t have to.” Richie reassures him. “But if you want, we could like, shotgun it. You might _feel_ it but not as much as you would directly.” 

“If he doesn’t want to Rich, don’t make him.” Bev scolds over Bill’s raspy hacks. 

“What’s shotgunning?” Eddie inquires, his interest piqued. 

A grin crawls up Richie’s face which is already taking the effects of mixing liquor and weed with his eyes growing hazy and a smile just melting into his features without him even having to try and force the muscles to curl it up. His senses just feel the blend of dopamine and alcohol within him and cannot help but pull his mouth upward. 

“You’ve never shotgunned, Eds?” 

“No shit I haven’t.” 

“It’s only the _sexiest_ way to smoke weed.” Richie informs him. Bev rolls her eyes and simply snags the pipe from Richie to take another hit. 

“Put more in it before you do that.” She looks at Eddie. “You _will_ still get kind of high so don’t do it just because of his stupid Tozier charm if you don’t want to.”

“Tozier charm is irresistible!” Richie guffaws, but a gentler expression replaces the loopy one for a brief second. “But if you don’t wanna, you don’t gotta.”

“No… No I will.” Eddie shrugs. “I’ve gotten cross faded before. It’s not the _worst_ thing to be.”

“That’s the spirit.” Richie claps a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. Electricity buzzes under Eddie’s skin and he longs to put his body against Richie’s the way he has to so many nameless frat guys whilst dancing in other houses but he wants to do it with _meaning_ and not simply fulfill his ongoing rebellious fantasy. “So I’m going to take a hit and we’re going to get super close,” his thick eyebrows waggle, “and when I exhale, you’re going to inhale my smoke. Sound doable?”

Eddie’s brain is a bit slow to process at the present moment but it sounds simple enough so he nods. 

“Good.” Richie lights the bowl and inhales, clenching his jaw tightly—highlighting the sharp line of it— as he holds the smoke deep in his lungs. He edges near him and Eddie moves his mouth closer. He can count the freckles, having faded with the arrival of a grey, sunless winter on his nose. Richie gives a nod and Eddie opens his mouth a fraction, eyes focused on the peeling skin of Richie’s lips. Richie’s lips pursed together in a near perfect o-shape as he blows the smoke into Eddie’s mouth to which Eddie inhales at a steady rate as to not send himself into the same excruciating coughing fit that Bill has just endured. 

He finishes and Eddie is still just _so_ close to Richie’s face and he can’t keep his eyes off the taller man’s mouth. Richie was right about this being sexy or at least it is to Eddie. It’s a level of intimacy that Eddie never thought could come from smoking weed. He simply associates snorting laughter, greasy food, and a putrid odor with pot but this brings something new and erotic to the table. He likes it a lot. He wants to eliminate the space between him and Richie but before he can do so he realizes he hasn’t allowed himself to breathe out his exhale and like Bill, he falls into the throes of a throat grating coughing spasm and gets some spittle on Richie’s alcohol flushed face. He wants to fucking die right there and then. 

“Yeah, shotgunning doesn’t make you immune to the smoker cough.” Richie tells him reassuringly, seemingly unphased by Eddie hacking right into his face and instead rubbing a hand between Eddie’s shoulder blades as to offer some form of comfort. “Sorry about that, Eds.”

“It's fine.” He manages to rasp out. “I actually kinda liked that.”

“Y-yeah. I could t-tell.” Bill sniggers and Eddie wishes he had gotten a refill of a drink just so he could dump it on his friend’s head. 

Richie doesn’t seem to react in any specific way to Bill’s comment and Eddie is not sure if that’s a good or bad thing so he simply elects to avert his eyes from Richie’s bloodshot ones. 

He decides not to smoke anymore— neither by shotgunning nor by taking hits as Bev, Richie, and Bill continue to. He instead allows himself to silently watch his friends (because they’re all friends here now) slowly fog their minds while his own level of drunkenness steadily wears off. He doesn’t act on his body’s want to press closer into Richie nor does he vocalize the fact that he is so painfully into this gumby looking moron. 

Eddie has grown to feel comfortable in doing a lot of things he would have never done when he first came to school. He’s not so fearful and he knows there’s a lot of good in people now. He enjoys partying and getting wasted. He loves letting himself go because his entire life he’s been held to a ridiculous standard by a literal tyrant, and a few puffs of a plant or a long pull of a drink eradicates that control and he absolutely loves it. 

He craves it. He is so comfortable kissing strangers and allowing them to slide their hands all over his pilant body and to bite his neck into a surfeit of bruises. However, even with as bold and daring as Eddie has grown in these four months of university, he cannot bring himself to act on feelings of wanting to kiss someone that he would like to remember the morning after. He isn’t brave enough to put himself against Richie and to taste him because he knows he’ll want that again and Eddie, like how lightning rarely strikes the same place more than once, is never one to kiss a guy twice. So he’s silent; ignoring the flutter of his heart each time Richie laughs and allows the night to pass him by with a yearning deep in his chest.

**xXx**

When Eddie wakes up the following morning he’s not surprised to feel the throb of a headache behind his left eye and taste something foul in his mouth—he’s hungover. He lifts himself up, stretching until his lower back pops. He’d made it back in one piece, electing to dip out with Bill and go back to their dorms not too long after he was washed with unexpected yearning for the gangly young man with stupid glasses and wonky teeth. 

He rolls away from the wall and sees that Mike hasn’t left yet. He’s bustling about the room quietly, probably assuming that Eddie will be knocked out for several more hours. It’s just before ten and Eddie knows that with how late he was out he _should_ be sleeping until well past noon but for some odd reason, every single time he hits a certain level of drunkenness, his body wills him to wake up far too early for a weekend. 

“Hey Mike.” He yawns, which has Mike turning to face him as he remains snuggled into his comforter. 

“Have fun last night?” Mike jeers, his voice not too loud and for that Eddie is grateful.

“Mmm, yeah.” He rubs at his eyes which feel gritty but the pressure of his hand does wonders for the pain radiating in his skull. “I made friends with Beverly Marsh.” He thinks he can say that. They got awfully close last night and he now has her Snapchat and number saved into his phone. He’ll have to follow her on instagram to see the cool pictures Richie had taken of her before they left last night. 

“Oh, I’ve seen her ‘round before. Just never talked to her.”

“Yeah she’s cool.” Eddie tells him, contemplating whether or not he should shower here soon. He can feel the familiar frat grime film coating his skin and he knows his hair is curling around the nape of his neck as a result of the sweat that had seeped into his locks last night. He feels rather revolting and wishes he’d showered when he’d returned to the dorms but he was way too drunk to safely execute such cleaning processes last night.

“You leaving soon?” Eddie asks, swinging his legs around the edge of the bed and picking up his phone only to see that it’s dead and his drunken self did not remember to put it on the charger when he got home. Wanting to check his notifications, he grabs the wire from under his pillow and plugs the device in. 

“Yeah. Do you need anything before I go?” Mike slides his winter coat on and Eddie can see from their window that the flurries they’d witnessed last night had become a near blizzard in the time since he fell asleep as several inches had accumulated across their campus from what he could see. “I have a bottle of ibuprofen in my desk drawer and I have some pedialyte in the fridge.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Mike.” Eddie moans as he drags himself to the fridge and pours some out into one of his many tea mugs. He takes a swig, cringing a bit at the chalky taste but knowing it’ll all be worth it as the electrolytes work to eradicate his hangover. He thinks he’ll get some ibuprofen once he takes a shower because quite frankly, Eddie feels disgusting. 

“It’s what I do.” He grins, swinging his overstuffed backpack over his shoulder. “I’ll catch ya later for dinner if you’re down, Eddie.”

“South Halls around seven-ish?” 

“Sounds good to me.” Mike gives him a half wave. “See ya later.”

“Bye.” Eddie replies, taking another swig of the drink intended for toddlers. He hears the sound of his iPhone buzzing as it comes back to life. He sets his mug down on his desk and flops back onto his bed, wincing as he quite literally feels his brain jostle in the confines of his skull. 

Wincing, he picks up his phone and quickly lowers the brightness to the lowest setting which still somehow feels as if it is burning his retinas. He sees a few drunk texts from Bill lamenting over the tragedy that is “unsupervised baby carrots” but what really catches his eye is the fact that a contact by the name of Dick Toaster which he assumes is what Richie Tozier put himself as in his phone last night has sent him not only several pictures but a few genuine texts and a request that has Eddie’s heart going wild within its cage. 

**Dick Toaster**

**Dick Toaster: hey eddie spaghetti!**

**this is richie! here**

**are the pics we took!**

**Dick Toaster: [13 images attached]**

**Dick Toaster: i had a lot of fun w**

**you last night and**

**i hope we can hang**

**again.**

**Dick Toaster: idk im kinda tipsy**

**still so maybe is dumb**

**but i was jw if you would**

**maybe wanna go on a**

**date w me?**

**Dick Toaster: i might have read**

**all of this v wrong**

**but bev said i**

**should ask you**

**if not it fine.**

**i would still like**

**to be your friend**

**:)**

**Dick Toaster: ok i hope you got**

**home okay and**

**i hope to see you**

**Soon :) :)**

Eddie rereads the messages several more times, a grin ghosting upon his face. Forgotten is his headache and churning stomach. He is too focused on the fact that Richie Tozier, the gawky looking beauty with a big forehead wants to go on a date with _him_ . His excitement is infiltrated with a burst of anxiety because Eddie has actually _never_ gone on a date before. Most people go on several dates in their adolescence, always cheesy little ones that their parents had to drop them off at but still dates nonetheless. Eddie never had that but something brave in him guides his fingers across the screen into telling Richie, yes.

**Dick Toaster**

**Eddie: Thanks for the pics!**

**I had a lot of fun last**

**night too!**

**Eddie: and I would love to**

**go out w you**

**sometime. :)**

Eddie begins pacing around his room, shaking his hands at his sides and making involuntary squeaking sounds as the weight of the situation settles upon him. He said _yes!_ He’s going to go on a date. His phone buzzes and he leaps back onto his bed.

**Dick Toaster**

**Dick Toaster: great! ik finals**

**are next week**

**so could we do**

**in the middle of**

**the week or would**

**after break be better?**

**Eddie: I can do this week!**

**Wednesday or**

**Thursday night would be**

**best tho :)**

**Dick Toaster: okay! i’ll see you**

**at 7:30 on Wed. :)**

Eddie flops against his pillow, his hand on his chest. He feels vaguely like the main character in some early 2000s B-movie who just got asked to the prom by the love of their life as “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None the Richer or some other hackneyed love song plays in order to set the mood. He breathes in deeply, thinking nothing can crush his mood, not even the lingering threat of finals on the horizon. But then he gets a whiff of his own B.O. and that’s enough to diminish his spirits but the thrill remains. 

**xXx**

**January (Year I; Semester II)**

“Next year we should both just go on a trip instead of going home to our parents.” Bev tells Eddie as she slumps next to him in her XL twin bed. The two of them are cozied up in her dorm since Bev’s bitch of a roommate, Greta-something is off somewhere else. Eddie doesn’t know her very well but he knows she’s got the worst attitude based on her constant bitching in the floor GroupMe. Currently, he and Bev are bonding over their rather horrific winter breaks. Bev’s father is an abusive asshole that over sexualizes his daughter and didn’t even want her in a Co-Ed university as he has himself convinced that Bev cannot keep herself away from any man with a pulse. It’s twisted and a sickening thought that her father views her as something so easily objectified and Eddie can tell it hurts her a lot but she manages to dismiss it with some quick-witted humor and dry sarcasm. He wishes she never had to go home again. 

He knows she wishes he didn’t have to go home either. His mother had been an absolute nightmare when he came home. She had broken down sobbing the minute they got home and insisted that he was abandoning her and was throwing his life in the garbage. She tried her typical manipulation tactics and nearly had him convinced that she would die if he continued doing whatever he was doing at school. Or in other terms, his mother would die if he continued being happy and trying to have fun with all of his friends. But it was hard to see it that way for a while and Eddie started contemplating never returning for the spring semester until she said words that were designed to hurt him but actually motivated him.

“I can’t even recognize you anymore, Eddie-bear!” She had cried to him.

That was something he needed to hear. He had grown. College was supposed to change him and was tailored to propel someone into who they were meant to be and that was what college was doing for him. He was no longer the fearful little mama’s boy that was incapable of enjoying himself. He was an independent young man that was developing a secure sense of self and had great friends that cared about him more than his mother ever had. He wasn’t her possession anymore. He was his own person and he never wanted to be the person she thought he was supposed to be again.

“I would totally be down for that.” Eddie agrees.

“So,” she rolls onto her stomach. “It’s Sylly Week and I have an in with Sig Nu this Friday if you wanna go with us.”

“I’d be down.” Eddie nods his head. “Could I bring Bill, Stan, and Mike?” He asks, already opening up their little group chat and typing up a message to send. 

“Oh definitely. The Sig Nu guys are honestly the nicest bunch of guys on campus.”

“Even nicer than Ben?” Eddie smirks.

Bev’s freckled cheeks blush. “No one is as nice as Ben.” She murmurs. 

“You know he likes you.” Eddie tells her. 

Bev shrugs. “I mean… I don’t know.” She laughs mirthlessly. “I sometimes _think_ he does but I’m just scared.”

“Don’t be.” Eddie says and Lord is he the biggest hypocrite _ever_.

Bev of course doesn’t let him get by on such remarks because even after less than a month of friendship, she can read Eddie like a book. “Oh yeah?” She challenges. “What about you and Richie?”

“What about it?” He flushes, his stomach jumping slightly.

She scoffs. “I _know_ you like him! You were practically all over him at Skulls last semester and I know damn well he likes you.” She chuckles to herself. “He stalked your instagram and freaked out when he saw that you used lyrics from a 1975 song on one of your posts.”

“He told me he liked them on our date.” He says, recalling their discussion about their favorite artists and how the two of them were both completely and utterly obsessed with Matty Healy. Eddie remembers that Richie’s favorite song by them is “Sex.”

Bev jolts up. “YOU WENT ON A DATE WITH RICHIE AND NEITHER OF YOU FUCKING TOLD ME?!” 

Eddie nearly topples off her bed at her shouting. “We’re going to get a noise complaint.” He hisses. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t _he_ tell me? What the _everlasting_ fuck?!” Bev growls, crossing her arms over the large logo of their university that is embroidered on her chest. 

Eddie knows _why_ he didn’t say anything to anyone beyond Mike about his date who dropped the subject when he realized it made Eddie feel uneasy. He wonders why Richie didn’t tell his friends. It can’t be for the same reasons. Eddie’s stomach feels like it’s full of lead and he thinks his heart is dropping lower. Was Richie embarrassed to go on a date with him? Was the date out of pity simply because Eddie was too obviously flirting with him that entire night in December? 

The date itself wasn’t bad at all. In fact, Eddie found it to be quite sweet and the best first date he could have ever envisioned for himself. Richie had picked him up outside his dorm and complimented the fair isle sweater Eddie had been wearing.

“You own a lot of Christmas-y sweaters, huh?” Richie had observed aloud. Eddie had not been certain what to wear to their date so he had selected a festive sweater that wasn’t as in-your-face as the one he’d worn to the party and a pair of looser jeans and oxfords. He wanted to look nice without looking overly formal. Mike had helped him on that front **—** informing Eddie that he should put forth effort into his look but to remember that it was just a casual first date and there was no need to look ridiculously formal.

Eddie had been able to tell that Richie dressed up a bit too with a collared shirt peeking out over the neckline of a maroon sweater that looked pleasant against his pale complexion and Richie had even made a half assed attempt to tame his overgrown locks of hair. 

“I guess so.” Eddie admitted with a shrug, following Richie.

“They look good on you.”

“You look nice too.” Eddie had told him and he had immediately shoved his hands into the pockets of his winter parka. He wasn’t sure if keeping his hands out would entice Richie to hold them and then he’d been panicked about whether _wanting_ Richie to hold his hand was juvenile so it had felt safe to make his hands unavailable for a potentially childish action.

After they chatted for a bit, Richie had taken him to a diner downtown that accepted meal points as payment since he knew that both he and Eddie had to be broke that close to the end of the semester and it was extremely fun. The food had been quite delicious and Richie had been thrilled that the waitress had allowed him to have a coloring paper and a pack of crayons to doodle with. He had drawn Eddie a snowman that had a carrot in a more phallic region as opposed to upon his face as an innocent nose. 

Eddie had stowed the drawing away in his desk drawer in his dorm—the only physical evidence that he’d gone on a date with Richie Tozier. 

They’d discussed music, some of their interests (Richie was involved in the Thespians Society and had hinted that Eddie should see one of their shows), and continuously teased each other through the rest of the meal. Eddie at that point thought this was a rather decent first date. It was casual and absolutely perfect. Everything felt so natural and relaxed. 

Richie had then off-handedly mentioned how he’d had a snowball fight with Bev and Ben at their university arboretum. 

“Oh, what’s that?” Eddie asked him.

“You’ve _never_ been?!” Richie’s eyes, already magnified behind his lenses, seemed to grow three times their normal size as if they were somehow related to the growing heart of the Grinch. 

“Uh, no.”

“Oh my God. We have to go.” They each left a tip at the table and Richie had taken Eddie’s hand before he could stow them away in his pockets and ran the two of them all the way to the northern part of campus.

Eddie can see where most areas would be occupied by flowers in the spring, but for now the entire place had been extremely festive with a wide array of ornaments, ribbons, and lights twinkling against the blanket of snow that covered the ground around them. 

“Wow.” Eddie had whispered as Richie walked him through the winding path. It was truly remarkable and absolutely silent aside from the faint crunch of their shoes in the hardened snow. “This is so cool!”

“Yeah.” Richie had breathed out.

Richie surprised him with a snowball nailing him in the back and it had quickly become a war between the two of them. They stumbled through the snow, sliding around some since neither of them had thought to wear appropriate footwear. Eddie had felt several clumps of snow slipping past the edge of his oxfords and dampening his socks but he hadn’t cared. He had been having so much fun running around the grounds with Richie that the inevitable agony he would feel in his toes as they thawed out was forgotten. 

They’d gotten tired out pretty quick with the frigid air burning their lungs so as Eddie was trying to catch his breath, Richie slung an arm around him and Eddie had felt his heart skip a beat or two but said nothing as Richie walked him to the largest tree which was in the more central part of the arboretum and had one of the most intricately designed stars that Eddie had ever seen, placed at the very top. 

“It’s beautiful.” Eddie had remarked.

Richie had looked at him, smiling at Eddie’s mouth. “Yeah it is.” He moved his head in a way that Eddie knew what was to come after so he reacted in the only way someone on a first date does. He dodged a potential kiss by side stepping around him to get a closer look at the tree. His heart had thud painfully in his chest and Eddie felt his cheeks burn not from the nip of bitter cold air upon his cheeks but sheer humiliation at what he’d done. 

Eddie wanted to kiss Richie but he also didn’t. He couldn’t kiss someone _sober_ and especially not someone he especially liked. Richie was so much more experienced than him if the way he teased Eddie for having his first kiss at eighteen in a Frat House was any indicator. Richie was a natural socialite and people seemed to gravitate toward him. He could draw just about anyone in with his famous “Tozier Charm.” Richie was out of Eddie’s league and kissing him would just serve as a way for Eddie to prove himself even more beneath Richie than he already knew he was.

Eddie, although he was breaking from the chains his mother had trapped him in since birth, was nowhere near the level of the devil-may-care attitude that Richie possessed. Eddie was inexperienced. He was overly cautious. He couldn’t please Richie the way he wanted. Eddie wasn’t even ready to have sex and what kind of college guy wanted to settle for someone like _that_. Sure he was jumping so many hoops at once but Eddie felt certain that he knew how college relationships worked. Everyone was about immediate gratification for the person they wanted to be with and that included sex.

He didn’t want to experience Richie too intimately because he knew—he just _knew_ it would not end in his favor and to taste Richie, to feel him and to then lose him all because he wasn’t brave enough, was not something Eddie was ready to go through. He was stronger than he’d ever been but not strong enough for that. 

The date had ended not long after that with Eddie returning to the south end of campus where he lived and Richie going off to his single dorm on the west side. They texted some once they each got home securely but there was a shift in their tone. Soon, the messages dwindled to one word responses and by the time the Monday of finals week came about, Eddie hadn’t talked to Richie Tozier since. 

“I’m not sure why he wouldn’t tell you.” Eddie murmurs somberly. His own insecurities seem to _know_ why but he doesn’t want to shoulder that weight onto Bev after the hellish winter break she just went through. “I mean nothing came of it so it doesn’t matter now.”

“But why?” She presses, plopping her head onto Eddie's shoulder, peering up at him with inquisitive eyes. 

He shrugs. “I dunno. We just stopped talking afterward.”

“What did he do?” 

“What? Nothing. It was a lot of fun, actually.” He feels a bit sad admitting that to someone other than the notes app on his phone. 

“Did _you_ do anything?”

“I don’t know. It felt kinda mutual. We just stopped talking.” 

“And how does that make you feel?”

“Bev, you’re not a psych major.” 

She smacks him.

“Lousy, I guess?” Eddie confesses and he feels a swollen lump forming in his throat and the familiar itch of his nostrils that always happens before he starts to cry. He attempts to collect himself with a few deep breaths. “He’s just… he’s out of league anyway and I don’t want to be a bother.”

Bev lets out a shrieking laugh which startles Eddie. “ _Richie?!_ Out of _your_ league?!” Bev snorts with the force of her laughter. “Oh my God. That is _hilarious!_ ”

“What?” Eddie is absolutely baffled by this reaction. He didn’t realize his crippling insecurities were that comical.

“Hang on.” She grabs her phone and puts it on speaker. Eddie manages to get a glance of her screen and sees that she is calling Ben. He also notices that there’s a heart emoji by his name. Emojis speak volumes in the modern era. Eddie briefly wonders if future historians will conduct emoji analysis or something to inspect the texts and tweets of today’s figures. 

“Hey Bev.” Ben greets.

“Hey Benny!” Eddie raises a brow at her and she flips him the bird. “I’m with Eddie right now.”

“Assclap?” Ben asks and Eddie is surprised at that. A lot of people mess up his last name but never _that_ bad.

“It’s Kaspbrak.” Eddie corrects and that sends Bev into another fit of giggles.

“Why didn’t you tell me I was on speaker?” Ben grumps and releases a huff of air. “Hey Eddie… that’s uh, what Richie calls you sometimes.”

“That’s actually why I called.” Bev tells him. 

“Oh I’m not with Richie right now.”

“I figured as much.” Bev says. “First of all, did you know that Richie and Eddie went on a date together?”

“They did?” 

Eddie feels his face heat up. He is not particularly fond of where this is going and is starting to regret telling Bev anything at all. Richie didn’t want anyone to know he went on a date with someone as pathetic and childish and unpracticed as Eddie

“Yup.” Bev pops the ‘p,’ and Eddie feels frustration burning in his body and he so desperately wants to smack the smirk off her face but he of course would never hit anyone especially not someone as sweet as Bev— even if she is not being very sweet right now. 

“Well how’d it go?”

“It happened back in December and they haven’t really talked since.”

“Oh, what the fuck did Richie do?” Ben snaps and Eddie feels himself grow madder. How dare they assume so quickly that _Richie_ did something wrong. Sure, he appreciates that they're not accusing him right off the bat, but there's absolutely no reason for them to assume that this all flopped because of Richie. They’re lucky to have him as a friend and should not think so very little of him. 

“Nothing. However, can you remind me what our dear ol’ Richard said to us when we were at Mcdonalds after Eddie and Bill went home the night we all partied together at Skulls?”

“Uh he said that Eddie had the fattest ass he’d ever laid eyes on?” 

Eddie’s face goes a bright red. 

Bev snorts. “No, no. Not that. Although, thank you for letting Eddie hear that.” Eddie shoots daggers but says nothing. “What did he say when we told him he should ask Eddie out sometime.”

“Oh! He said that he couldn’t because Eddie was out of his league to which you agreed with him but then proceeded to tell Richie how pretty he was anyway.” 

“Richie said _what?!”_ Eddie exclaims, eyes nearly popping out of his head. Richie had thought that _he,_ hopeless, dependent Eddie was out of _his_ league? That had to be a fluke. They heard him wrong. Richie was not an honest drunk. He must be some rare breed that profusely fibs whilst intoxicated. That had to be it. 

“Richie thinks you’re out of _his_ league which you kinda are.” Bev clarifies and Eddie just shakes his head. 

“No way. Richie is wildly out of my league, guys.”

“Richie is gonna have a receding hairline by the time he’s thirty if he’s anything like his dad.” Bev deadpans.

“Okay, more forehead to kiss.” Eddie says without thinking and desperately wishes he just kept his mouth shut because the glint in Bev’s eyes just speaks something devious. 

“Oooooo!” Ben giggles on the other line. “He’s going out with us this weekend, right?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

“Not any—”

“Yes you are, stupid.”

“Nothing is going to happen.” Eddie hisses. 

“It doesn’t have to if you don’t want it to.” Ben sighs. “But it’s very obvious that you to get along really well and not letting it happen just because you’re scared is kinda stupid, Eddie.”

“Oh _you’re_ one to talk!” Eddie growls.

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” Bev says before Eddie can get another word in. “I’ll let you go Benny. Thank you for helping me out here.”

“Not a problem, Bev.” Ben chuckles. “I’ll talk to you later and I’ll see you this weekend, Eddie Assclap.” And with that the line cuts off.

“You really are out here interfering with my love life when yours is just as messy.” Eddie points out, emphasizing his point with a not too gentle poke to Bev’s collarbone.

“I _am_ working on it.” Bev informs him. “We’ve been keeping it on the DL so you can’t say anything, but we’ve been going on dates almost every Tuesday since after Thanksgiving break.”

“Wait, really?” Eddie is taken aback.

“Yeah. We just don’t want it to get too big and if you don’t want this blowing up with Richie we won’t let it.” She looks guilty for a moment. “I’m sorry. Calling Ben was probably overstepping my boundaries. I just thought you should hear from someone that isn’t me that he really likes you.”

Eddie appreciates this.“It’s fine and I mean there’s nothing to _let_ blow up.” Eddie sighs. “I really don’t think he likes me that way.”

“You are quite possibly the densest person I’ve ever fucking met, Eddie.” Bev shakes her head, looking up to the ceiling as if seeking help from some higher being. Eddie laughs internally at the thought of a satanist looking at the ground when seeking for such assistance. “Richie likes you a fuck ton. He literally told us and for you to deny it is dumb.”

“But he stopped talking to me.”

“Okay, well you did too.” Bev says, exasperated. “It just was bad communication and you have the opportunity to fix it.”

Eddie shrugs.

“Do you want to?”

“I think so.” Eddie mutters. “I just… I don’t want my feelings to get hurt.” He sighs. “I’ve never really done anything with anyone and I’m not ready to, okay?”

“Okay.” Bev nods her head.

“I’m sure Richie doesn’t want a prude like me.”

“You realize a lot of people think virgins are sexy as fuck, right?”

“They do?” 

“Uh, yeah? It’s like a forbidden temple type aura or some shit. I dunno.” Bev quirks her head in brief thought. 

That’s interesting but it doesn’t matter. 

“Okay, but I don’t _want_ to have sex yet and that’s just gonna be annoying to him.”

“No it’s not.” Bev laughs. “Richie may be the dumbest fucking piece of shit I’ve ever met in my goddamned life but Richie isn’t some asshole who will dump you just because you’re not ready to have sex, Eddie. Richie literally has the biggest heart in the world. Trust me.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience him.”

“ _Inconvenience_ him? Because you don’t want to have sex? Oh my god, Eddie— no. That’s not how that works. If someone tries to make you feel bad because you won’t have sex, then they’re a piece of shit and not worth your time.” She looks at him sadly. “Is that what hap—”

“No! It’s never happened.” Eddie fidgets uncomfortably. “I’ve never had a boyfriend obviously and… well… I’ve never kissed anyone sober and anytime guys _try_ to get me to do anything, I just kinda ditch them.”

“That’s actually amazing that even your drunk self knows to not jump on the first dick he sees and I love that.” Bev chortles. 

“I know my own boundaries.” Eddie laughs despite himself. 

“And that’s a really good thing, Eddie. You know what you’re willing and not willing to do. Just establish that with whomever you meet, even if that’s not Richie, and if they don’t respect that, they’re not worth your time of day.”

“I think I’d like it to be Richie.” Eddie admits in a voice just barely over a whisper. Bev’s smile occupies the entirety of her face. 

“Maybe we can make that happen at Sig Nu.” Bev decides.

“I’m going to have to be rip roaring drunk.” Eddie points out.

“That’ll be easy.” 

**xXx**

Oh and is it ever easy for Eddie to get drunk that night at Sig Nu. He was already staggering once him, Bill, Mike, and Stan made their way to Frat Row. The filter of his brain has completely evaporated and he finds himself babbling to all of them about how pretty he thinks Richie Tozier is. They, ever the supportive friends, let him drone on about the “gangly God with an ass flatter than Kansas and shoulders larger than the entire city of Manhattan.” 

Bev is lingering outside the stone steps of Sig Nu when they arrive looking quite beautiful in black skinny jeans and an emerald green bodysuit that is dazzling with her complexion and fiery hair. Eddie thinks that Ben is a lucky man but even in his drunken haze, he remembers to block his filterless mouth from announcing that in front of everyone. 

She gets a thumbs up from the guy running the door and they all flood inside.

“I want alcohol.” Eddie tells them intelligently. 

“How drunk is he?” Bev asks Stan.

“ _He_ is right here!” Eddie snaps. 

“He’s pretty drunk but not wasted by any means.” Stan answers.

“All fucking assholes.” Eddie grumbles and Mike just snorts and slings a muscular arm over Eddie’s shoulder. Bev leads them upstairs where the alcohol is usually served at Sig Nu since according to Ben and Bev, their parties tend to be set up a bit differently than most other houses. 

Eddie knows he doesn’t want to be too obliterated by the time Richie arrives even though a nagging voice in the bag of his head tells him that nothing is going to happen tonight except maybe Richie complimenting the new sweater he’s wearing. So as opposed to having a drink of ¾ alcohol and just a ¼ of a mixer he decides to ask for a drink that is almost all mixer with just a shot and a half of vodka. 

It’s enough to help him maintain a decently high enough BAC to feel confident in himself and to not be so scared to be near Richie even though Eddie’s defenses still existed fullforce the last time he was around Richie whilst intoxicated. But maybe, just maybe, knowing that Richie has literally said that he thinks Eddie is out of his league and that he might like him (which Eddie still highly doubts), maybe he’ll be able to let himself be close to Richie even if it’s just going to be another drunken night spent sucking face in a frat house with nothing more coming from that. It’s as far as Eddie has ever gotten with someone but he supposes that’s all his body is willing to let him do for now and maybe it’ll just feel _better_ with Richie.

Or maybe it won’t even happen and he’ll end the night lip locked with a stranger pretending that the hollow feeling in his chest isn’t there, attempting to consume him from the inside out. 

This party is a bit different than the usual frat party whereby almost everyone is downstairs and dancing sloppily, sloshing their drinks on busted wood floors. Instead, everyone is crowded upstairs and each of the brothers have their rooms open, serving a plethora of drinks and playing music that doesn’t necessarily warrant back cracking booty drops but instead numbs the mind with “good vibe” tunes and lyrics that _should_ be depressing but aren’t due to the slight _bop_ to the sound. It’s way more mellow than most frat parties Eddie has been to but he’s heard from several people that that’s just the ambiance Sig Nu always seems to present and in all honesty, Eddie is a fan of it. He thinks this may be a house he wants to frequent more until he’s of age and can ditch the objectively awful frat scene and enjoy himself more so at bars and clubs. 

Eddie stands in the hallway talking to Mike and Bill, cracking jokes and feeling a bit more relaxed and significantly less sweaty than he normally does at parties. Eddie almost thinks this would be a better party to get stoned at as opposed to being drunk especially as he hears the familiar “oh, oh” of “Habits” playing from one of the bedrooms. In his vodka-induced haze, he notices that Stan is nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Stanley?” He asks.

“Oh, he saw that one friend from his accounting class, I think.” Mike informs, sipping slowly at his own drink which Eddie can _smell_ is much stronger than his own. He thinks it might be tequila. 

“Oh, that Patty girl?” Eddie vaguely recalls a short blonde with glasses whom he met just briefly when Stan brought her into the study lounge on their floor. 

“Yeah. He likes her a lot.” Bill says. 

“I want to see _all_ of our friends.” Eddie decides.

“Don’t go bothering Stan.” Mike advises.

“I’m not. Let’s find Ben and Bev.” And Eddie leads the way, meandering them around the twisting hallways until he sees an open room where Ben and Bev are currently conversing with some guy Edide doesn’t recognize but can’t help but think looks like an off brand Owen Wilson. 

“Thanks. I get that a lot.” The guy snorts. Fuck he said that out loud? Oh well. It happens. He internally makes a physical effort to not comment about Ben or Bev’s developing relationship. 

“Hey Eddie.” Ben smiles up at him, scooting over on the bed so that he, Mike, and Bill can all sit next to them. “You all having fun?”

“Yeah. We might pop by Sig Tau for a bit.” Bill informs them. Bill is considering rushing for a frat this semester and a guy from Sig Tau had invited him and any of his friends to come and party with them. “You guys are welcome to come too.”

“We might skip out on that.” Bev shrugs. “I’m not big on party hopping, especially not in these heels.” She holds up a foot clad in very obviously new shoes that are already blistering her poor feet.

“Can’t say I blame you.” Mike winces sympathetically, sipping at his drink. 

Ben lets out a sputtering sound after drinking his and looks up at the Owen Wilson guy who is currently engaged in a conversation with a few other girls. “ _This_ is Fireball? That’s fucking gross.” 

“It’s not for everyone.” Owen chuckles. “Definitely an acquired taste.” 

Acquired taste? Such flavors that are “acquired tastes” are definitely far too posh to be served at a frat house. But the name Fireball is rather intriguing and is a drink Eddie has not had. He usually sticks to bottom shelf vodkas and tequilas. 

“I want some.”

“Eddie, you’re not blacking out tonight.” Mike admonishes. 

“Here. Just take a sip of mine.” Ben hands him the cup and Eddie feels none of the anxiety in his chest that his pre-college self would have felt at the idea of sharing drinks. “I don’t think you’ll like it though.”

Eddie swings back way more than sip, getting an entire mouthful of an offensive cinnamon concoction that has him choking and nearly gagging. “What the _fuck_? That tastes like fucking melted Hot Tamales.” 

“It’s got a kick, huh Eds?” Says a voice that makes Eddie’s heart beat funny in his chest and sends his hands into a clammy state. Richie Tozier, wearing a gaudy ass button-down that is definitely not warm enough for the January winter, stands before him with a crooked grin, a half drained solo cup hanging loose in his hand.

“Took you long enough, Richard.” Bev scolds playfully.

“I was taking a nap and overslept.” Richie shrugs. “Sylly week is _exhausting_.”

“Yeah, it’s so tiring to hear all your professors read off a syllabus while you go back to your dorm and get stoned.” Bev’s lower lip pops out, quivering as she releases a whimpering sound. “So _very_ hard.”

“Someone p-play the world’s sm-smallest violin!” Bill cackles.

“Oh, piss off.” Richie snarks back, swinging back the rest of whatever was in his cup and as opposed to pitching it and getting a fresh one, he uses the same one to get himself some fireball. He’s environmentally conscious. How can Eddie resist such a perfect example of human existence?

“How can you drink that?” Eddie scrunches his nose in disgust as Richie sips the drink without so much as wincing. 

He shrugs. “It kinda reminds me of my favorite candy—”

“Lemme guess: Hot Tamales?” Eddie attempts.

“Yeah!” Richie grins. “It tastes just like ‘em… except maybe a bit worse.”

“A bit?” Eddie snorts. “It’s absolutely _vile_.”

“I am hurt, Eddie Spaghetti.” Richie’s hand flutters to his chest in mock offense. 

They quickly fall into a decent group conversation that has most of them doubled over with laughter. Eddie feels warm and content as the vodka is absorbed into his system, keeping his head pleasantly “floaty.” Any anxiety pertaining to meeting up with Richie tonight is absolutely gone and maybe nothing is meant to happen for them but he can tell that Richie is a really great friend to have if just a bit obnoxious and loud. They end up playing a game of beer pong in some other dude’s room which Eddie had never done before and somehow his liquid courage in conjunction with Richie as his partner guided them to being the champions of the night. 

“We’re gonna have to head to Sig Tau soon.” Bill announces not long after Eddie and Richie did a few victory shots together. 

“Alright.”

“I’m gonna find Stan to let him know we’re going and to text us if he needs anything.” Mike says. 

Eddie leans against the wall, closing his eyes as he feels the world tilting just a bit as the last round of shots hits him. 

“You cut your hair over break.” Richie comments. Eddie’s eyes fly open and he sees that he is mere inches from Richie. He can, even in his hazy vision, make out the details of his face. His lips aren’t as chapped as they were before winter break and he notices that there is a faint half square stain on Richie’s sharp canine teeth suggesting that he probably had braces for a long period of time and the orthodontist didn’t clean around the bracket properly. His eyebrows are a bit bushier and he’s breaking out around his jawline. He’s absolutely gorgeous. 

“Uh, yeah.” Eddie stammers. “My mom wanted me to take a few inches off.” He internally scolds himself. He doesn't want to dump his mommy issues on poor Richie right now. 

“You look good either way in my opinion.” Richie’s smile is soft and Eddie wants to wipe it off with his own lips.

“I’m sorry abou—”

“Hey, none of that.” Richie says, narrowing the distance between them even more. Under the strong scent of booze, Eddie can smell his spearmint toothpaste and Abercrombie cologne that he’s probably had since high school. “I think you’re really great, Eddie.”

“I think you are too, Richie.” he says and Richie puts his forehead on his. He doesn’t try to pull away. His defenses that existed the night at Skulls and in the arboretum are entirely gone but the yearning and the passion still burns. He knows Richie has the potential to hurt him so much if he lets his emotions get the best of him but he doesn’t care right now so he takes the liberty of closing the space even more by putting his lips against Richie’s. 

The world seems silent then. Eddie knows it can’t be. The vibes are mellow but there is still a party going on. But he doesn’t care. He just enjoys the taste of Richie and the faint brush of their noses against each other as they move their heads without bumping each other sloppily like Eddie often tends to do with some of the nameless guys he’s swapped spit with in the past. This feels… so much better. Their mouths dance together in synchrony, a perfectly choreographed piece of clicking teeth, swollen lips, and teasing tongues. It feels right until Eddie feels a poke to his shoulder.

He separates, realizing he’s on his tiptoes and lowers himself to see Bill grinning at him. He wants to punch him in the face.

“We’re going to go. You can stay if you want.”

Richie looks at Eddie and he suddenly looks nervous and that triggers something rotten within Eddie. 

“You should go with them.” He insists. Eddie feels hurt but just nods. He wanted to continue but instead he follows Bill down the steps and out into the bitter cold feeling like a complete idiot. 

“Where the fuck did Mike go?” Bill yelps as they stand on the porch, realizing their friend had somehow managed to get lost in the time it took for Eddie to be ripped apart from the only guy he’s ever kissed who might have been worth that second strike of lightning. He doesn’t even want to go to Sig Tau. He just wants to go to his dorm and cry. 

He’s about to argue with the pledge to let him back in when Mike stumbles out with a grin. “Sorry about that. I was talking to Richie.” 

“Oh.” Eddie says grimly.

“You enjoyed yourself.” Bill remarks as they walk away from Sig Nu. 

Eddie shrugs. “I mean I was but I don’t think it means anything.”

“You guys were going at it for a solid thirty minutes, Eddie and you mean to tell me that it meant _nothing_.” Bill cackles. 

“That was _not_ thirty minutes!”

“It was so! We found Stan and then we saw you and decided to let you go for a bit but then we weren’t sure what your plans were gonna be so we had to see if you wanted to stay or not.”

“I did.” Eddie confesses, embarrassment bubbling in his gut. “He just didn’t want me to.”

“Oh, Eddie…” Bill says sadly. “We can go home.”

“What?” Mike snorts and Eddie wants to punch him for making light of his present sadness. “Oh gosh, Eddie you have it all wrong. Richie was scared of taking advantage of you because you’re drunk and he started freaking out and wants you to text him.”

“He’s drunk too.” Eddie argues, befuddled. 

“Oh, trust me, I know. Anyone can tell that Richie is totally shit faced right now except for himself.” 

“So… he didn’t _really_ want me to leave?” The high feeling is coming back. 

“Not at all. He just wanted to be a _gentleman_.” Mike explains with half assed spirit fingers to emphasize his point. 

“Oh, wow.” Eddie is absolutely relieved. He feels like he’s on cloud nine— high on that reportedly thirty-minute make out session and high on the fact that Richie was that concerned for being respectful to him. Richie was a pisspoor communicator for certain. However, his intentions served as evidence of Bev’s statement from earlier in the week that Richie was one of the sweetest guys ever. 

“Do you wanna go back?” Bill asks.

“No. I hear Sig Tau knows how to fucking party and I am in the mood now.” Eddie beams.

**xXx**

Sig Tau _does_ know how to party. Eddie manages to get even more drunk and his legs are definitely going to be cramping tomorrow with how much he danced about with Bill and Mike but truthfully, he’s had one of the best nights he’s ever had since coming to college—hell, maybe one of the best nights of his fucking sheltered existence. 

Eddie did end up texting Richie a bit and his heart was positively soaring at how sweet and dorky Richie was being with him now that they’ve broken down the barrier of kissing one another. He still has some fear that this is _it_ given his issues with intimacy but something about Richie feels worthwhile. 

Mike ended up not coming home with him and Bill, electing to hook up with a girl he had been _extremely_ close to while they were at Sig Tau. Eddie wasn’t displeased. Sometimes, even though Mike was a phenomenal roommate, he did enjoy having the room to himself at times especially when he was barely able to stand up right as he cleaned himself off with a baby wipe for he was definitely not in the mood to shower (nor would it be safe right now) but that didn’t matter that much. Sure, he would feel gross in the morning but right now, he was so wildly elated and immensely proud of himself and all of his friends. 

He was proud of himself for making a move with Richie even if there was potential that nothing ever happened (he’d cross that emotional bridge when he got to it). He was proud of Stan for _not_ coming home which could only mean he was probably staying with Patty. He was proud of Mike for treating himself to a fun night and letting loose with a pretty stranger. He was proud of Bev and Ben for maintaining their secrecy of their own love story. And of course, Eddie was proud of Bill for throwing up _outside_ of the Uber once they got home as opposed to _in_ it where they would have been charged two hundred dollars. 

All in all, a pretty fanfuckintastic night. 

He slides under his covers feeling like he’s floating on water as the room spins even with his eyes closed. He grabs the water bottle Sober Eddie had left on the shelf above his bed and chugs a decent amount hoping that will diminish the potential for a killer hangover in the morning. He’s about to let sleep claim him which would take barely a minute to happen since alcohol always made him drowsy by the end of the night but there is a knock at his door.

He wonders if Mike decided to come home but as always, the door is not locked.

“Come in.” Eddie calls, sitting up. 

“Hi.” Richie says meekly, looking even more disheveled than he had when he’d run off from Eddie. Even from his bed, Eddie can smell the booze on him. 

Eddie crawls to the end of his bed to greet him but ends up sliding off, his coordination not exactly there in his current state. Richie seems to maintain some of his own reflexes and is quick to save Eddie from the unnaturally long fall that would be from the top of a ridiculously tall dorm bed and the hard floor beneath them. He eases him onto the mattress and steadies Eddie into a slouched sitting position.

“How was the rest of your night?” Richie slurs. 

“ ‘s fun.” Eddie responds. “Whatcha doin’ here?”

“Me ‘n Ben walked Bev home… well Ben was gonna but I wanted to make sure you were doing okay and to apologize if I—”

The odds of lightning striking the same place twice is roughly one in 3000. These occurrences, however, only tend to occur if similar weather patterns repeat themselves across the same geographical landscape. Eddie had always believed his chances of ever kissing someone twice was even less but as he pulls Richie’s face to his and lets Richie fall against him in his bed, he knows that isn’t the case.

Eddie knows they probably look like the least sexy image alive as they struggle awkwardly onto the XL twin bed. Richie straddles him, moving his fingers through Eddie’s hair and down his neck without halting the kiss. 

Eddie pulls away as Richie grabs the hem of his shirt, staring at Richie’s face in the darkness and smelling the cinnamon of the fireball on his breath. “I don’t… I don’t have sex.” He tells him nervously. 

“That’s okay.” Richie whispers into his ear. He sounds genuine; he’s not judging Eddie. “We don’t have to do _anything_ you don’t want.”

“I want anything… but that with you… right now.”

“I can make that work. There’s ways to have fun without any of that, Eds.” He slips Eddie’s night shirt off, bending to kiss the softer line of his jaw. “I want to see you.” 

“I want to see you too.” Eddie repeats as he tugs at the buttons of Richie’s shirt but the alcohol in his system has his gross motor skills on holiday. Richie doesn’t seem to value the shirt much and simply tugs it open, not caring if that is incredibly bad for the thread holding the buttons to the fabric. Of couse the bastard is still wearing a stupid undershirt. He is really testing Eddie’s patience. Richie yanks it off, revealing a slightly hairy chest, unfairly broad shoulders, and a moderate accumulation of fat around his hips that Eddie finds to be the hottest thing ever as Richie sits himself over his knees. 

Eddie knows what he wants. He arcs his head back, showcasing his neck to Richie who leans down, pressing kisses into Eddie’s toned stomach, trailing upward until he reaches Eddie’s neck where he does precisely the thing Eddie adores most and sucks. Eddie has never made a sound when anyone has bitten his neck but something about the way Richie does it elicits the faintest moan from him and some people find that embarrassing but Richie snickers a bit, sounding all too pleased with himself as he continues to leave a plethora of love bites into Eddie’s fair skin. 

Eddie wants to return the favor he thinks as Richie presses a kiss to his mouth. He bites at Richie’s lower lip without even thinking about it and Richie bucks his hips forward. 

“Eddie,” he says gruffly but Eddie doesn’t listen, he trails a path of rough kisses down Richie’s sharp jaw and to his neck where he begins sucking upon the thin skin, hoping to leave an artful blend of reds and purples for Richie to hopefully showcase proudly tomorrow. Eddie knows he won’t hide his own.

They continue this pattern of heavy petting, fitting their bodies close to one another and touching nearly every inch of the other without hesitation. 

Eddie gives a full body shudder as Richie’s tongue coasts the roof of his mouth. It’s a strange sensation but he thinks he likes it quite a bit. He never knew that the inside of a mouth could feel ticklish. Richie pulls away for a second, his nose trailing down Eddie’s temple. He bites at the lobe of Eddie’s ear which _no one_ has ever done to him and he never thought something like that would make him feel so fucking good. He must have responded in a way that let Richie know he liked it because Richie snorts, _actually_ snorts and says, “You like that, don’t you?”

Eddie doesn’t stop himself. “I just like fucking biting.”

“I can tell.” Richie chortles, effectively silencing Eddie with his own tongue. 

The whole thing could have been incredibly lustful with Eddie’s inadvertent moans and Richie’s grunts anytime Eddie’s nails dug into his shoulder blades but unfortunately, anytime they began kissing and air got trapped between their skin and let out a strange fart sound, Richie, a literal child, would laugh right into Eddie’s mouth having to pull away briefly to compose himself.

“It happens!” Eddie whines and Richie just shakes his head, looking way too smug at Eddie’s flush of embarrassment.

Eddie can’t deal with his cockiness so he forces his hip bones hard into Richie which causes him to groan loudly but Eddie knows what he’s doing even if he’s never done something like this before. He slides his leg from under Richie and with a strength he manages to conceal in his deceptively small frame, he flips Richie to be under him. 

“Hi there.” He sneers.

“ _Oh_.” Richie says, eyes wide. His face looks different without the glasses he’d abandoned after the second time they got tangled in his rats nest of hair. It’s not a bad difference. He just somehow looks more innocent and less like the mischievous bastard that Eddie knows he is.

Eddie doesn’t say anything and straddles his elbows over Richie’s head, kissing him long and deep, using one hand to pull Richie’s hair to expose his neck to him again. There’s already a wake of bruises and Eddie plans to give him even more. Richie lets out a long moan as Eddie yanks his hair back a bit rougher than he intended. It wasn’t one of displeasure. 

“You like that, don’t you?” Eddie mocks with a devilish smirk. 

“Shut the fuck up.” Richie whines. “We’re learning new things, _okay_?!” 

Eddie simply laughs and returns his attention to the other man’s neck before edging back to his mouth which Richie moves greedily toward Eddie’s as if he is a particularly delicious treat he longs to taste again. 

Eddie can’t help but notice that both of them are ridiculously hard and he can’t help but feel bad that he’s not letting this escalate but he knows he’s not ready and Richie hasn’t said a single thing. He hasn’t uttered any complaints. He is working around Eddie’s desire to keep anywhere below the belt covered out of the equation (minus the fact that he keeps roughly groping Eddie’s ass which Eddie is _unquestionably_ okay with) and finding other ways to make sure the two of them are as pleasured as they can be without sex. 

He knows he shouldn’t feel bad. Richie isn’t even making him feel bad. But he knows Richie has had sex and wold probably _want_ to have sex with him. But Eddie just isn’t ready for that but another part of him thinks it might not be the worst idea to just let _everything_ happen tonight. 

Sure everything is wildly uncoordinated and filled with the peculiar sounds of skin rubbing against each other to elicit stupid farting sounds and they’re both sloppy in their motions but Eddie thinks everything about this, what he’s doing with Richie is perfect. It’s incredibly sexy to him. Definitely a memory that will rear its head in his future wet dreams.

This moment with Richie... it stirs something in him. Something longing. A physical longing Eddie has never felt in his life. A distant voice tells him it’s called being horny but “ _physical longing’_ just sounds better in his own head. Less offensive. 

Maybe it’s the vodka still pulsing through his system, warping his ability to think clearly or maybe it's just his own inexperience and a desire to expand his horizons and have _something_ but as Eddie separates himself from Richie for just a second, straddled over him, he can only think that Richie Tozier is the sexiest person in the fucking world and that he thinks he wants to tell Richie that he’s ready to go further with him _right now._

“Richie, you know I—”

“Eddie!” A loud knock on the door and the excited voice of a redhead the two of them know all too well. Eddie jolts up, eyes nearly bugging out of his head as he scampers off the bed.

“Hang on!” 

Richie seems anxious and doesn’t know what to do so he darts into Eddie’s wardrobe and shuts the door. 

Eddie quickly grabs a blanket to spare him the embarrassment of Bev seeing him with a complete hard on and drapes it around himself cloak style before flicking on the lights which irritate his dark-adjusted eyes and opens the door. 

Bev is beaming. Her lipstick is smudged and her short hair is a mess. Eddie can see a faint hickey forming on her collarbone. He remembers the force of Richie’s teeth on his neck and slides the blanket up to cover any potentially forming bruises. 

“Hey.” Dumbly, he sidesteps and allows her in to sit on his messy bed. 

“So you and Richie _finally_ kissed.” She teases, sitting down on his bed. 

“Yeah.” He laughs despite himself. “It was nice.”

“Oh he is honestly so in love with you Eddie.” She tells him giddily. But it seems a little misplaced for _his_ budding relations. “He walked me home with Ben tonight and he just kept going on and on about how cute you were and how he liked you so much.”

Eddie bites his tongue to halt his laughter. He will definitely tease Richie for that later. 

“Yeah. I like him too.” Eddie says. 

“Uh, so I don’t know why I wanted to say this to you but you’re the only one who knows and I’m sorry to wake you up and tell yo—”

“I wasn’t sleeping, Bev.”

“Oh, good! Well, I just… I want to let someone know because I’m just… really happy I guess and I just want to almost announce it to the world but I’m afraid to mess things up if others know and I just want to say it to someone and just… wow.” She breathes out. “Ben and I—”

“Richie is in the closet.” Eddie interrupts her. Bev shouldn’t confess her relationship with Ben like this in front of Richie. It’s not right. She doesn't know Richie is in here. She thinks she’s confessing something about her and Ben to just Eddie and Eddie does not want her to divulge anything right now that is supposed to be for his ears and his ears only. 

“Eddie, honey. Richie is _so_ far out of the closet and away from the closet which is why I think he doesn’t know how to dress himself worth shit.” 

“No. He’s in _my_ closet.” 

Richie takes that as his cue to stumble out of Eddie’s closet. “Hi Bev.” 

“Oh!” Her eyes are wide. 

Eddie gives her a knowing look. He didn’t want her to expose herself unknowingly to Richie. She smiles.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow.” Bev says. “Have fun but not too much fun.”

They end up not doing much after Bev leaves and instead surrender to their own exhaustion and curl up around each other in bed; their legs twisting together like delicate vines up a wall. Sleeping in a twin bed is not particularly comfortable _alone_ and with two people it proves to be _spectacularly_ uncomfortable but Eddie can disregard the smothering sensation and the inability to find a position that doesn’t result in Richie’s knobby elbows knocking into him simply because having his body this close and to stay like that _all_ night makes it worth it. 

He keeps trying to slide the blankets off of his shoulders in order to get some relief from the sweltering heat that he’s never experienced in bed before. Eddie has never actually slept with another person and he had no idea that sleeping people put off waves of heat like this. It’s borderline unbearable and each time he tries to slip out of the blanket, Richie, even with his eyes shut and his breathing falling into a steady rhythm which suggests that his body is well on its way to the dream realm, keeps tugging the blanket back over Eddie and tucking it around his form. Eddie wants to get mad and tell him to stop but the action is adorable and simply done out of the kindness of Richie’s heart. After the fourth time that Richie pulls the covers around him, Eddie elects to deal with it. He appreciates the thought and his drunken system isn’t going to let boiling alive prevent him from falling asleep.

**xXx**

When Richie leaves that morning he is an absolute doll. He makes Eddie’s bed for him after Eddie had snuck around Richie’s sleeping form to quickly hop in the shower and to, of course, inspect the abundance of love bites marring his neck. Eddie can’t even contain the cheshire grin that twists up the corners of his mouth upon seeing the damage Richie has inflicted upon his skin. Richie really did a number on him— worse than anyone else has and he absolutely relishes in it. 

His shower is not overly thorough, just enough to wash the film from his skin and make him feel moderately more alive. He feels positively euphoric, yes. But there is a lingering headache and a twisting feeling deep in his stomach after taking probably more drinks than necessary. What can he say? He was fucking nervous last night. 

He slips on the comfy clothes he’d brought for himself in one of the shower stalls before padding back to his bedroom, hoping the squelching sound of his shower shoes does not awaken Richie. Such worries are for a moot point as Richie is wide awake and sitting criss-cross-applesauce upon his freshly made bed, scrolling mindlessly on his phone. He glances up at Eddie, smiling softly at him and Eddie feels a tingling sensation all over his body—as if his body is reminding him of all the areas where Richie Tozier touched him last night. Eddie puts his towel and shower caddy down by the door and leans against the desk facing his bed. 

“You sleep alright?” He asks.

“Pretty good.” Richie chuckles, running a hand through his bed head. His face falls a fraction. “I really would like to get breakfast for you but I have to do a group project this weekend and I kinda want to get cleaned up.” Richie walks over to him and up close Eddie can see the own damage he inflicted upon Richie’s neck. Eddie has to contain his surprise at the fact that he might actually be part leech given the deep violet tone of most of the marks lining Richie’s throat. Eddie can actually see blood below the surface of the skin on one particularly dark one. 

Eddie thinks he should feel a smidge more upset but he kinda just wants to lay down and replay the night in his head until he falls asleep again because even though he loved having Richie next to him all night, his sleep was anything but restful in nature. “It’s okay. I understand.” 

“I really… I really had a lot of fun last night.” Richie rubs his thumb down the curve of Eddie’s cheek and Eddie doesn’t even think. He just moves his hand behind Richie’s ear and pulls him down for a kiss. The kiss is gentler than anything Eddie’s ever experienced and that’s when he realized this is his first kiss not fueled by alcohol. This is his first time kissing as himself with no alteration to the chemical composition of his brain fueling the desire to meet the lips of someone else. _He_ , Sober Eddie, the real Eddie wants this and is okay with this. 

“Mmmm.” Richie sighs into his mouth, and rests his forehead against Eddie’s; his glasses cutting into the skin around his eyes. Eddie moves his face away, not wanting to hurt Richie. “I want to see you again… soon, yeah?”

Eddie smiles softly. “I’d like that.”

“I’ll see you later, Eddie Spaghetti.” He presses a kiss to Eddie’s forehead and then slips out the door. 

Eddie lets out a faint laugh, walking over to his bed and flopping down. He has never done anything except kiss nameless someones and allow them to mark his neck simply because he loved the way it felt and what it represented to him. Never has he put _feelings_ before or after those encounters. Maybe he’s being overly idealistic and influenced by his lack of experience in this department of intimacy but he feels like there’s _something_ there with Richie.

He lets out a dreamy sigh, kicking the blankets down, feeling somewhat bad for messing up Richie’s bed making job, and easing himself into a comfortable position. He’s about to let himself doze back off when he sees something white draped across his desk chair. 

Pulling himself from the comfort of his bed, he gets up to inspect the fabric. He picks it up and realizes it’s a men’s t-shirt. Plain white. Probably used as an undershirt or something to laze around in. He sees that the size is a large. Eddie is usually a small or medium. This isn’t his. Mike is too polite to throw his clothes on Eddie’s side of the room. He moves the scratchy, cheap fabric through his fingers. This belongs to Richie.

**xXx**

The following week passes and Eddie and Richie have not seen each other again since. Richie ends up going home for the weekend to help his parents with some renovation project and it’s already Wednesday, a whole week and a half since they got together, and Eddie has not seen Richie once. Not even a whisper. 

They’re still talking regularly and have actually upgraded to maintaining a five day snap streak. His days begin with Richie’s tired looking 8am lecture selfies and end with a sweet goodnight text. But it’s not enough. Eddie misses his physical presence. He adores Richie’s lame jokes over texts and their mutual teasing but he longs to feel Richie’s hair under his hands and the taste of his mouth in his. His neck is void of any indication that Richie had been with him for a night and he wants to remedy that with some new love bites. 

But they’re both busy. A _lot_. Their schedules never mesh well together and never permit the two of them to be free when the other is and vice versa.Eddie wants to see him so fucking bad. His mind can’t get off of him. 

He lays in his bed, headphones tight over his ears, staring at an empty document for the paper due tomorrow morning for his sociology class. Sure, he’s known about the paper for a week now, but Eddie is convinced that he only produced his best work when subject to the unnecessary pressure that arises when a deadline is right in front of him. He has yet to find an instance where him writing a paper this last minute has warranted poor results and has no intention of mending his procrastinator tendencies. 

Mike is supposed to be studying for a quiz but is instead munching on some popcorn whilst watching a movie on Netflix. He’s convinced that there’s not going to be any classes tomorrow because there’s already a solid six inches of snow that’s fallen on the ground since around eight that night, but Eddie can’t be sure if their school will actually grant them the blessing of having a snow day. He knows such instances are rare for universities but given the fact that a kid busted his skull after slipping on ice when on his way to class last week (which he managed to live from), and was now contemplating pressing charges, Eddie supposes a school closure is a viable possibility. 

He’s lucky this professor isn’t making them turn it in online, otherwise Eddie would be absolutely screwed because he too is thinking of not doing his work and perhaps pining silently in his bed whilst watching something on his laptop. 

He supposes he could also put away the laundry he finished an hour ago but hasn’t wanted to work on yet. But then he remembers something as he glances at the basket and sees a white shirt folded under some of his towels. _That_ is his reason to see Richie tonight! He has to give Richie back his shirt! 

Sure, it’s a complete waste of a shirt that would be completely inconsequential if Richie never had it back. It’s just a plain hanes t-shirt that his mom probably bought for him from some pack at Target just before he came to school. But it was a reason to see him so Eddie decided that he _needed_ to return this shirt and he had to do it _now_.

**Dick Toaster**

**Eddie: Hey! I have your**

**shirt and was**

**wondering if**

**you’d want me**

**to bring it back**

**tonight or**

**sometime soon.**

He waits with bated breath. His intentions have to be obvious. But he might not even get to see Richie tonight or anytime soon. Richie might be bombarded with his own duties and not feel so secure about the prospect of a snow day and is actually diligently doing his work unlike Eddie and Mike. 

His phone buzzes.

**Dick Toaster**

**Dick Toaster: hey Eds!**

**Dick Toaster: actually ya**

**i’d really**

**appreciate it.**

**Dick Toaster: you can come now**

**if you’d like.**

**Eddie: Yeah! I can come rn.**

**Hamilton Hall, right?**

**Dick Toaster: yup! see you soon :)**

Eddie feels fit to bursting. He quickly grabs his crest toothpaste (with fluoride of course) and decides to freshen up real fast in the bathroom. He returns to his room and quickly pulls on his snow boots and a sweater headband that Bev had given to him which keeps his ears and head warm without flattening his voluminous hair into a flat, lifeless plop of brown locks. 

“Where you off to?” Mike questions, sliding his headphones off of his ears.

“Richie’s.” He grabs the t-shirt and puts it into his backpack and manages to wiggle that on over his parka. “I have to give him something.”

A knowing smirk creeps up Mike’s features. “Alright.” He drawls and leaves it at that. 

Eddie is thankful that Mike is not the prying type. He can barely prevent himself from literally skipping out of his dorm as he makes his way outside. He pulls out his phone as he steps out into the frigid air and uses GoogleMaps to guide him to the building that Richie lives in.

He can feel the snow piling up the hair not covered by the sweater headband and doesn’t have it in him to pull up his hood because that would mean exposing his ungloved hands to the bitter elements. Perhaps Richie will find the dusting of snow upon his locks endearing even if said dusting is progressively starting to look like the worst case of dandruff ever as the snow is falling in fat clumps that are sticking and layering up upon the ground and starting to do the same upon Eddie’s hair. 

There is something so serene about a night snowfall. It’s like the entire world has fallen asleep under the blanket of snow and everything just feels so blissful and relaxing. Safe. Or at least it _normally_ does or it has for Eddie in every other place he’s been except a college campus. College kids, whenever it snows this much and there is a likelihood for cancelled classes, enjoy being outside in the bare minimum of winter gear as they engage in warlike snowball fights and build themselves a variety of snow sculptures that are almost entirely all phallic in nature. 

Eddie gets to the west campus dorms and while he’s circling around, unsure of which entrance of the three separate doors he’s supposed to take, Richie pads out in the snow, wearing a university t-shirt that is definitely not insulating him in the cold air, sweatpants that hang low on his hips (Eddie wonders if he did that on purpose or if he’s being vain), and a pair of moccasins that crunch loudly over the snow. 

“This way, Eds!” Richie waves him over and Eddie jogs over to him. 

“Hey.” Eddie breathes out, his chilled skin burning a bit in the heated air of the lobby. He suddenly feels self conscious about coming at all and begins digging through his backpack to hand Richie the shirt. 

“We can do that in my room. You look frozen, Spaghetti.”

Eddie can’t help but agree as he wordlessly follows Richie into his room, a single unit that is clean albeit cluttered which Eddie would expect nothing less of Richie. Richie is like a tornado; he’s exciting, destructive, and no one can keep their eyes off of him. 

Richie helps to strip Eddie out of his large coat and pulls the headband right off of his head, placing it atop of his desk. 

“Oh, here.” Eddie hands him the shirt from his bag to which Richie takes without a word and Eddie feels his face flare up in embarrassment but luckily any blush that dusts his cheeks can be attributed to the cold he’s still feeling. “I just felt bad for leaving it there and I know it’s just an undershirt but you never know.” 

He hates himself for explaining. That just made it more obvious. He knows it. 

“It’s fine. I appreciate it. It helps me to not have to do laundry as frequently.” He shakes the shirt a bit in his hand before shoving it in an overstuffed drawer in such a way that Eddie knows it’s just going to wrinkle horribly. Clothes are quite literally on the verge of spilling over the edge but Richie refuses to let them with a few pushes to shove, backed by all his weight and strength, them back down. The mess is fitting for someone as tumultuous as Richie.

“It’s really good to see you.” Richie says awkwardly, his hands twisting together against his stomach. 

“Yeah… classes have been hectic.” _Fuck._ Why did he start with smalltalk regarding school? He was hoping to spawn something bright and exciting— a bit painful for what he wanted Richie to do to his neck. He didn’t want a dull, menial conversation. He wanted Richie in his entirety— or at least the amount of him that he was comfortable in having. 

Richie snorts. “Yeah. It kinda sucks,” he scratches the back of his neck, the hem of his shirt lifting with the motion of his arm and exposing a slither of pasty skin that Eddie wants to feel against him, “but it’s whatever I guess.” Richie nibbles on his lower lip with his slightly bucked front teeth. “I’ve missed you Eds.” 

“I’ve missed you too.” Eddie says.

Richie edges closer to him and warms every snow chilled bit of his body with the softest kiss to his lips. Eddie wraps his wrists loosely around Richie’s neck as Richie’s own hands explore down Eddie’s rib cage and settle on the small of his back. While remaining liplocked, they manage to step backwards and fall comfortably into Richie’s bed, Eddie atop of Richie. He twists his fingers into the taller man’s overgrown hair and gives a gentle pull to which Richie grunts deep into Eddie’s mouth.

“I see you remembered that.” Richie manages to huff.

Eddie doesn’t respond and instead humms, drawing his tongue down to Richie’s jaw where he suckles before going down to his exposed neck to leave a mural of hickeys upon the pale skin. He doesn’t even have to say anything and Richie knows to return the favor, arcing himself up to absolutely wreck delicate skin with his twisted teeth. He halts, their noses barely brushing each other. Eddie can count the different shades of blue in his eyes as he gazes into them. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Richie tells him, kissing his lower lip once and parting again. He places both hands on either side of Eddie’s temples, his thumbs brushing across his lashes before they rest on Eddie’s flushed cheekbones. He lets out a twinkling laugh that makes Eddie’s heart sing the songs of a New York opera. “You are _so_ beautiful, Eddie Kaspbrak.” 

Eddie finds himself smiling wider at Richie’s words. He wants to deny it; to be humble. But he cannot. He just lays there allowing their lips to barely touch before melting back into the passion of swollen lips and playing tongues. He pulls apart from Richie again to peer down at his flushed face. 

What does he say, in the heat of the moment, to a guy like Richie Tozier? Richie is beautiful but he isn’t the type of guy you say that too. Richie is invigorating. He’s addicting—intoxicating. He is positively enrapturing. He has Eddie in the palm of his hands with that stupid crooked grin, exploring lips, and his wandering hands. He can have Eddie’s body maybe more than this. Richie has Eddie’s heart and Eddie thinks that maybe he could l— _no._ He can’t. He can’t do that. Not yet. That’s too fast. That’s his immature way of perceiving love kicking in. He can’t lo—no. 

“I have an essay.” Eddie suddenly blurts, effectively zapping away the heat of the moment. It feels as cold as it did outside now.

He doesn’t even think he will have class to turn in that essay with the storm surely continuing to bury their campus under heaps of icy snow. Richie must think the same thing if the defeated expression upon his face is of any value. His expression is one of hurt; like he wanted Eddie in a way that went beyond physical and Eddie regrets halting it but cannot find it in himself to speak up. 

“Oh, okay.” He replaces his crestfallen expression with a phony smile of understanding. “You should get home and finish it.”

Eddie gets off of Richie, almost immediately missing the warm touch of their bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces with squiggly edges. He wants to return to the bed and tell Richie how much he is beguiled by his presence and how much he _wants_ him in a way that exceeds their bodies and how maybe if they achieve that level of emotional connection, Eddie could comfortably let himself be _completely_ vulnerable with Richie in the most physically intimate way possible. Eddie doesn’t think he wants that. He _knows_ he does.

Instead of voicing such sentiments he reaches for his snow boots and sits on the floor to tug the right one on his foot. Wordlessly, Richie pushes his left foot into the other and ties it for him. He pulls Eddie on his feet and helps him slide into his coat, zipping it for him. “I’m sure you’ll do great and if you need someone to look over it, text me.”

“You’d do that?”

“Well I can’t possibly date someone that lets their BAC get higher than their GPA every other Saturday.” He immediately startles, realizing the words he’s said and Eddie sees something he never expected to see cross Richie’s features: Insecurity. 

_Date._ Richie said date. Does that mean Richie wants that with him? Does he want to l-word Eddie too?

Eddie can’t even address this as Richie pulls Eddie’s sweater headband on, trying to settle it over his ears but instead tugging it over his eyes, effectively blinding him. “Well that’s something to try one day, huh?” Richie snickers, trying to save himself from his own self doubt with humor and god, is he a fucking dork and a dork that Eddie unequivocally wants. 

“Asshole.” Eddie huffs as Richie pulls the headband back into its rightful place. But Eddie can’t pretend that he is not actively thinking of all the wild, kinkier things he could learn to do with Richie that go beyond the realm of simple penatrative sex. There is a world of possibilities for them to do to explore without crossing that bridge. He wants to stay and discover these things but instead he inches toward the door.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” Richie says. 

“Yeah.” Eddie breathes out, unable to avert his eyes from Richie’s lips; still swollen from just moments ago. He wants to feel them again.

Richie takes notice of this and slides Eddie’s backpack off his shoulders to pull him back into a kiss. Eddie lets him. And then Richie does perhaps the hottest thing anyone has ever done to him: He slips his hands under Eddie’s ass and holds him up against the wall, kissing him deeper and rougher. It feels scandalous—kissing someone whilst pressed up against the wall. It could have been one of the sexiest moments ever if Richie didn’t adjust his body to accommodate for the zipper of Eddie’s coat digging into his skin and slam Eddie’s head into the side of the doorframe. 

The pain is sharp and blinding, causing Eddie to scream right into Richie’s mouth. Richie startles and stumbles, dropping Eddie to the floor and falling with him. 

“Ow.” Eddie gripes, rubbing the goose egg already forming on the back of his head. 

“I am _so_ sorry.” Richie pleads with him, eyes wide with concern behind his glasses. “I just… I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that. I just... I don’t want you to lea— I’m sorry. Are you okay, Eddie?” 

“We probably won’t have class tomorrow.” Eddie states and Richie looks confused as Eddie starts undoing his coat for the second time (and hopefully the last) tonight. “It’s snowing like crazy and maybe… I could just stay.” Richie’s expression is unchanging. “With you.”

“Really?” He perks up immediately. 

“Yeah. I want to stay with you, Richie.” Eddie thinks of what to say. He can’t formulate the best words to describe Richie. Richie can melt him by simply calling him ‘beautiful’ but there’s just not enough words or enough of the _right_ words or phrases to describe him in a way that could quite possibly melt someone like Richard Tozier.

“You’re… you’re the most incredible person I’ve met here. You have… you have it all, Richie. Everything I want.” Richie crawls closer to him. “You’re understanding. You’re funny. You have a mind that is fascinating and an exterior that is absolutely _stunning_. You’re just so… so fucking good.”

Richie stands and pulls Eddie to his bed, his cheeks burning the same flush they just had. “Eds no. That… that’s yo—” They sit together. They’re talking. They’re not acting on their physical longing (which again Eddie knows is horniness but he will not refer to it as such). 

“Did you mean what you said?” Eddie asks, surprising himself with his own boldness. 

“Mean what?” Richie chuckles some. “I’ve never told you anything I didn’t mean, Eddie.” 

“About… about dating someone with a good GPA and st—”

“Oh Eddie, I’m sorry.” Eddie feels his heart begin a dissenting sink to his stomach. “If your GPA is low I’ll still date you. I can tutor you or try to help you somehow. I mean so as long as you’re trying and don’t get kicked out of school! I don’t mind.” 

Eddie could bust out into side stiching laughter for his own idiocy or into tears by how fucking sweet Richie can be. 

“ _No!_ I mean my GPA is _not_ low but… but you want to date me?”

“Well, yeah.” Richie blinks in something close to surprise. “I thought you knew that. I’ve been trying to hint at that since we first met and I kinda thought we were already getting there.”

“You’d want… you’d want to date me even though I don’t hav—”

“Eddie, I wouldn’t like you any less even if you didn’t want to touch me _at all_. I just like you and sure all the biting and hair pulling is great but I don’t need to have sex to be with you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. There’s other ways to have fun and you’ve proven yourself to be more fun than most of the other guys and gals I’ve actually _had_ sex with.” That’s a major confidence booster if Eddie’s ever had any. “I really like you Eddie and I should be more straightforward about it and ask… do you… do you wanna date?” 

It feels like such a foolish question—and maybe it should be embarassing for the two of them that they’re acting like two idiotic middle schoolers that just caught feelings for the first time after being partnered in a Home Ec project. Eddie’s doesn’t really care though.

“Yeah. I’d like that.” He beams at him and Richie steadily pushes him back into the pillows, pressing his lips against his. He slides his hand up the back of Eddie’s neck, halting suddenly.

“You have a lump.” He murmurs sheepishly; probably feeling guilty for nearly concussing Eddie against the doorframe for trying to emulate something he probably had seen in a porno. 

Eddie snorts. “It happens.” 

He resumes their kissing, allowing Richie to take more control because he trusts Richie to only go as far as he knows Eddie is comfortable with. As Richie straddles over him, dipping down to nip at the skin of Eddie’s freshly love bitten neck, Eddie realizes he’s changed a considerable amount. 

He would have never been so trusting with anyone the way he is with Richie before coming to college. He would have never even gotten to _meet_ someone like Richie with how sheltered he was back then. But now? He’s confident. He’s fun. He’s not weighed by the demands of a controlling mother (whom he really doesn’t want to be thinking of whilst in a moment of intimate passion). He’s himself and he’s someone that might quite possibly be in love and that doesn’t scare him anymore because love isn’t defined by the actions you’re willing to commit but by how you feel and the intensity and sincerity of those feelings. 

Richie slides his cold hands under Eddie’s shirt, caressing the faint panes of his defined body. He slides Eddie’s shirt off his head and permits Eddie to do the same to him. Richie nips at his lips teasingly before melting into a full blown kiss. He moves his hands down Eddie’s spine and Eddie weaves his fingers into Richie’s hair. Richie parts long enough to smile against Eddie’s mouth and Eddie cannot help but mirror the action. 

“You’re…” Richie is lost for words, laughing.

“Your boyfriend.” Eddie finishes with a toying smirk, nipping at Richie’s lower lip to which Richie laughs a bit, pulling his face away and laying his head against Eddie’s 

Eddie can tell he’s looking for the right words to say without saying anything he doesn’t think Eddie is ready for.

“I like you more than anyone else, Eddie.” He whispers to Eddie.

“I like you even more.” Eddie challenges, unable to kiss Richie anymore for he cannot stop grinning. He knows what Richie actually means when he says he _likes_ him.

“I like you the most.”

“I like you the most _plus one_.” 

Richie just shakes his head and kisses the smirk right off Eddie’s face. 

Eddie means _like_ in the same way that Richie does and he can’t wait until he’s at a place where he can tell him that.

**Author's Note:**

> Draco Malfoy: I love you and I hope you enjoyed this! Thank you again for being my friend and I sincerely hope you have a great birthday you bootiful bitch. You are my sunshine and you deserve the world and complete and utter happiness!!! I hope this did not disappoint and was enjoyable! Thanks for being born. 
> 
> the rest of the few shit biscuits outside of the birthday hoe that decided to read this: I hope this was entertaining!!! Im in a weird area with writing right because I've been struggling but this was actually fun to do as it was almost entirely based on different situations I found myself in my first year of college (especially the hey im gonna do everything i was too scared to do in high school thing). This did make me miss my freshman year a lot and just miss going to parties in general and doing stupid shit. lmao. But we wILL NOT RISK INCREASING THE SPREAD OF COVID IN THIS HOUSE SO I WILL REMAIN BORED!!! 
> 
> Evermore dropped while I was editing this and I am absolutely iN LOVE. All I can say is that folklore was the older, lesbian cottage-core aesthetic sister that wrote poetry and frolicked barefoot in fields with flowers in her hair. evermore is the sadder, light-dark (dependent on mood) academia aesthetic bisexual sister that probably drinks too much and tends to go for long walks at nightfall. i accept no other opinions here
> 
> Hope ya have a stellar day.


End file.
